Zuzu's Sandbox
by Omoni
Summary: A bunch of little fics and drabbles, including stories and ficlets about all or any of the characters. Please note that these are NOT LINEAR.
1. Panacea

It was unbelievable.

In all of his thirteen years, he hadn't felt pain like this. Not even when, as her idea of a joke, Azula had thrust his hand into the cooking fire and held it there until he screamed at her to stop (and even then, she had only stopped because the cook was coming back).

Compared to the pain he was feeling now, he yearned for that pain to replace it. At least back then he could still think, still feel, still focus on anything else.

He wasn't sure of how long he lay, unfeeling to the world, wrapped in the blanket of bloodred agony. He wasn't sure if he made any sounds during this time, what kind of treatment he had had, or if anyone had stayed by his side during this time.

At times, he wasn't even sure of his name.

But Zuko was of strong stock, of strong ancestors, and was also the prince. He got the best care, the best treatment, and eventually, he did come around.

When he woke up the first time, his world was only outlined with that bloodred pain. He felt it all over, but he mostly felt it where it had centred: the left side of his head.

Slowly, with a shaking hand, Zuko reached up and touched his face. His fingertips met with something soft and thick. _Bandages,_ he thought with a sudden wave of nausea.

Carefully, slowly, he opened his eyes.

And was met with pain and resistance. His right eye stayed open, but his left would not respond, and he was met with darkness. He felt himself shake harder. With tentative fingers, he reached up higher, and realised that his eye was covered as well.

_No,_ he thought, his right eye stinging, his stomach clenching. _No, nonono..._

The sound of his retching and sobbing caught the attention of the attending healer, who quickly grabbed onto his slender shoulders and held up upright. The healer held a small, metal dish for him to vomit into, but it was only dry heaves and a bit of bile; he had nothing left inside of him to bring up.

Suddenly furious, Zuko shoved the healer away from him. "What's wrong with me?" he demanded, his voice cracking. "Why can't I see properly?"

The healer winced, then looked down. He said nothing, which added to Zuko's fury. He clenched his fists and got to his feet. "What's wrong with my eye?!" he shouted, sparks of flame erupting from his fists.

The healer looked up and didn't move, and a split second later, Zuko understood why. A wave of dizziness and nausea crashed into him, and he swayed, his hands going to his head. Gently, the healer eased him back onto the cot and lay him down.

To his shame, he felt his good eye overflow, and he gritted his teeth and shut it, turning away. He couldn't help it; he felt humiliated, and frustrated, and above all, he was confused, so very confused...

"You were badly burned, Prince Zuko," the healer finally said. He reached to the side table and, with practised hands, dipped a cloth into a small cup of water, wrung it out, and placed it on the prince's sweating brow. "The entire left side of your face was terribly injured."

Zuko kept his eye closed, not wanting to see the healer's face. It eased his sense of shame. "And?"

"And," the healer agreed, "it's needless to say that you will have a scar."

Zuko swallowed hard, but nodded. He would have been stupid to assume that such a fierce fire would leave him unscathed. "And my eye?" he prodded, his voice hoarse.

"Will heal, but it will be damaged."

Zuko shot up, his hands grabbing the font of the healer's robes furiously. "What do you mean, damaged?" he snapped. "Am I going to lose my sight?"

The healer paled. "No," he reassured him. "But it will be imperfect, and it will always be a struggle to focus from that eye."

Zuko let go of the man's robes, feeling dizzy and sick again, partnered with a sense of bewilderment. "I...I won't be able to firebend anymore, will I?"

"You will," the healer answered, helping Zuko lie down again, "but you must come to terms with the fact that it may be limited, and hindered by your weakened sight."

Zuko curled up on his side, his back to the healer. "Go away," he snapped.

The healer hesitated. "Do you need anything else from me, Prince?"

"No! Get out!"

The healer bowed, and made his exit. Zuko waited until he was sure he was alone, before he curled up into a tighter ball. He reached up to tangle his fingers into his hair, only to find bandage and skin meet them. He shivered; most of his hair had been burned away.

"Why, father," he murmured, ashamed of the sound of his voice: it was akin to a baby animal's mewl. "Why would you do this to me, your own son?"

His good eye burned, and he let the tears come.

* * *

Much later, Zuko had a visitor. After his mother had disappeared and Ozai was crowned the Fire Lord, his uncle became closer to him than anyone else in his family. It was Iroh that offered the most advice, and it was Iroh who helped him through the daily responsibilities of the day.

And it was Iroh who had tried to warn him of the dangers of speaking up during the war council.

Because he was well aware of this, Zuko was somewhat hesitant to see, much less speak, to his uncle. It was difficult to face Iroh, to be faced with a possible "I told you so" scenario, which would not only shame him further, but exacerbate the shame he already felt.

But Iroh surprised him. He sat down on the cot next to Zuko, who had his back to him, and placed a hand on the top of his head, on a spot that was now bald from the fire that had scorched him. The hand was warm, and he wanted to cry again, but didn't.

"You paid a terrible price, my nephew," Iroh said gently, his voice thick. Zuko stiffened, but said nothing, the words of protest and defence clogging up in his throat. Who was he kidding? Out of everyone, Iroh was the one that saw through him the most.

"What did the healer say?" his uncle continued. "Will you lose your eye?"

Zuko turned around slowly, still feeling woozy and lethargic from his ordeal and the medication they were giving him. He looked up at his uncle, expecting to see his own shame, or pity, reflected in those wise eyes, but instead, he saw sadness, a deep and fathomless sadness. As he got comfortable on his injured side, Iroh moved his hand away from his head, but placed it on his shoulder instead.

"No," Zuko said finally, in a whisper. "I won't lose my eye. But it might be damaged forever."

"You're lucky," Iroh answered, his eyes flashing beneath iron-grey brows. "He could have burned away the flesh from your bones. You know that."

Zuko felt a wave of fury and hurt rush up in him. He sat up and slapped Iroh's hand away. "How was I to know that my own father would attack me?" he shouted. "How was I to know that I would even had to face him? I was _right,_ uncle!" And here, his eye stung, and his palms grew hot, but he didn't turn away. "_I was right!_ It_ is_ wrong to use men that way! It _is_! I'm _not_ wrong!"

Iroh sat, unmoving, not reacting, while Zuko shouted. Zuko struggled to maintain control of himself, and slowly, trembling and covered in sweat, he lay back down, shutting his eye. "I was _right_," he whispered.

"Yes," Iroh answered, his voice hard. He opened his eye again, and saw that Iroh was looking away. "Of course you were right, but that's not the point. The plan was set, and you countered one of your father's own hand-picked men, in a council of his own initiation. You were walking into a den of predators, and you were merely prey."

Zuko gritted his teeth, but said nothing. Iroh sighed, and suddenly, he looked ancient, right before Zuko's eyes.

"There is something else," Iroh continued, his eyes moving back to meet Zuko's gaze. "Something you must know."

He felt it then; that ominous, unearthly feeling that he had only experience once before, right before his mother disappeared and his grandfather was found dead. His entire world was going to change, and all that he knew would be swept from under his feet.

"Once you heal, you must leave," Iroh said finally. "Your father...my brother..." he sighed again, deeper this time. "The Fire Lord has decided that, because you spoke against him, you are not loyal to him, or to the Fire Nation. To prove yourself to him, you are to leave, and not return until you have completed a task he has set for you."

Zuko froze, his heart feeling like it was set in sudden ice. His eye widened, and his fists grabbed the thin sheet beneath him so tightly it smoked. Trembling, he murmured, "I have to go away?"

"As soon as you are able to walk without help," Iroh answered, "you are to set out."

"Set out," Zuko echoed, his voice small. Beneath his hands, the sheet continued to smoke. "Away."

"Yes."

And then, quite suddenly, the sheet was set ablaze. With a shout, Zuko sprang to his feet, grabbed the burning sheet, and threw it as hard as he could across the room. It barely missed his uncle before crashing into the washing station.

Zuko stood there, gasping for breath, his fists ignited. He turned to his uncle. "You mean I'm _banished_?" he demanded, his voice cracking on the last word. "My father has _banished _me?"

Iroh swallowed. While well aware and used to his nephew's rages, this was a fury that he had never seen; it was raw, physical, unthinking...and akin to his brother's.

But there was no reason to mince words. "Yes," Iroh admitted.

Zuko uttered another shout, reaching up with both hands, unthinking, in order to tug at hair that was no longer there. He yelped when his hot hands touched burned flesh, which seemed to further his rage, and he swung around, slamming his fists onto the wall. The plaster singed and cracked, and sported two new indentations the size of his fists, but it wasn't enough. It would never be enough. He could destroy the entire infirmary and it would never be enough.

_Banished,_ he thought, _for being right...for trying to do the right thing...for trying to prove that I knew how to think, how to plan! Banished!_

He had no idea how long he stood that way, his fists on the wall, his head lowered, but when he felt Iroh's hand on his forearm, he knew it must have been a while. He slumped, suddenly feeling old, and submitted to Iroh putting him back on the cot.

There was a long, strained silence.

Then, softly, Zuko said, "Where am I to go?"

Iroh winced inwardly. "You are to look for the Avatar."

Zuko stared at him, unbelieving. "The Avatar," he echoed. "The very one that has been missing for decades?"

"The Fire Lord seems to think that he must be out there somewhere, an old man and rather learned, just waiting to spring out and get a jump-start on the Fire Nation," Iroh explained.

"But, that's impossible," Zuko managed to force out. His heart was racing, feeling squeezed within his breast, like someone was trying to make it burst. "No one has ever been able to find the Avatar. Not in almost a hundred years!"

Iroh turned to him, his eyes grave. "Zuko," he said softly but firmly. "You need to do this. Otherwise, you will never be able to come home."

Zuko felt his palms itch, but he fought it.

"I'm sure if you manage to find proof that the Avatar is long dead and has not been reincarnated once more, that it will be enough for my brother," Iroh reasoned. "And you will not be alone."

Zuko curled up tighter, shivering, but not from cold. "I feel alone," he admitted, his voice small.

Iroh reached over and placed his big hand on the top of Zuko's head once more. "You are not. I talked to the Fire Lord, and he has agreed that I am to come with you."

Zuko looked up, his heart leaping. "You are?"

Iroh smiled widely. "With my geographical knowledge and your thirst for life, there's no doubt in my mind that we will succeed in this mission, no matter the circumstances that have placed us within them."

Zuko closed his eyes. He felt incredibly tiny all of a sudden. Tiny, and hated. "When do we leave?"

"As soon as you are well. Your father has generously allowed us use of one of his ships. It's....a little older than those ships still in use of the navy, but it should do us just fine."

"I'm sure it will," Zuko answered flatly, his heart no where near the task he had just been forced into. He didn't think he could ever feel any kind of enthusiasm for this, knowing what it was tainted with.

Iroh knew that Zuko was fading into sleep again. He gently patted him on the head, stood up, and turned to leave.

"Uncle?"

He stopped and turned. Zuko's one eye, darkened with fatigue and narrowed with pain, was focused on him. "Will he ever see me? See me as his son, and not his burden?"

Iroh wished he knew what to say. He knew that saying what Zuko wanted to hear would be folly, but to crush his spirits would rob the young man of his will to live.

Finally, he said, "We can never know for sure unless we try, and try with fire in our hearts, and passion as our guide."

Zuko's eye wavered, but he nodded slowly. He looked very small, and very young in that moment.

"Rest now," Iroh said gently. "I will visit you when you wake up later."

Zuko turned on his other side and waited until the door clicked shut. Then he hunkered down, curled up, and closed his eye, surrendering to sleep and exhaustion.

* * *

Looking back, so many years later, on those agonising few days curled up and a slave to his own pain, he would remember the fury and the sadness he had felt in learning that his life had changed forever once more. Looking back, upon his throne, it was easy to see that alot of his pain was due to the one man he had only wanted to please.

It was much later in his life that the only way to please his father was to be in pain, or to cause it.

And he would have never known the truth if he hadn't of spoken against the madness within the war council.

It was unbelievable, how much could change in one moment. But if given the chance, Zuko would have done it again. And again.

The pain, the rage, the fury and confusion...and the mark of his determination to speak up against injustice, was what made him who he was.

The journey began for Zuko the moment he spoke up in the war council. While it cost him dearly, it set him on a path that would wind in spirals and circles throughout the world, including in and out of the Avatar's life. After three years of false hope, false leads, and constant forays into danger and boredom, Zuko finally found what he was forced to find, only to discovered that merely finding the Avatar would force dozens of forks to open up in his life's path.


	2. Beaten Path

**WARNING: Spoilers for **_**Zuko, Alone.**_

_**Iroh**__: Zhao, the Spirits are not to be trifled with!__  
__**Zhao**__: Yes, yes, I know you fear the Spirits, Iroh. I've heard rumors about your journey into the Spirit World._

The death of someone you love can leave a gaping hole in your soul. No matter what you do, no matter how many stories you tell yourself, there is no easing the pain, no comforting the soul.

Iroh knew this.

In his darkest days, he knew this as intimately as he had known his wife, who had passed from him many years before he lost his son. It almost seemed as if he was just getting past that hurdle when Lu Ten was struck down as well. It was enough to make a man wonder what sort of cosmic joke the universe was playing.

It also made a man do things that, in retrospect, were absolutely insane.

But Iroh had had enough. There was nothing akin to the pain he felt when he received the missive that Lu Ten had been killed in the latest raid. It was like his entire being shriveled up and escaped him.

In the moments following the news, Iroh trudged around the ship like a sleepwalker, issuing commands in such a lethargic state that no one had ever seen. Withdraw from Ba Sing Se. Send the news home to the Fire Lord. Retreat and return to Fire Nation waters.

Prepare the body for the journey home.

Once Iroh was finally allowed time to be alone, within his chambers in the bowels of the ship, he was able to breathe, to think, to weep.

And to plan.

Surely this wasn't how it was suppose to be. Surely there was some kind of mistake. Lu Ten had barely been out of his teens. He had barely had his mark on the world. There was some kind of mistake. He wasn't supposed to die. Not now. Not yet.

_Not while I'm still living._

When you lose someone you love, you lose your common sense.

That was Iroh's only explanation for his journey into the spirit world. He had lost his common sense, and was desperate to get Lu Ten back.

But it didn't work out the way he wanted.

* * *

Getting there wasn't as hard as he had anticipated. Certainly age was a factor, but it was also because, despite these trying times, Iroh had always been a spiritual man. He wasn't a stranger to simplicity, to meditation, and thus slipping between borders wasn't too much of a challenge.

It was finding out what to do once there that ended up being the problem.

He stood in the middle of a marshy grove, one lit by somewhat dim and modest lighting. When he looked up, he saw that the sky was a murky and almost rust-like red. There was no sun, no moon, no stars; nothing he could find that explained the light.

"Oh, it's _you_."

Iroh slid into a ready stance so quickly he hadn't realised what he was going until he was standing in it. He looked towards the sound of the dry voice and saw what looked like a simian dressed in yellow robes.

He couldn't help himself. He stared. He had seen a lot of things in his lifetime, but he had never seen anything like this.

The monkey-man blinked slowly, looking irritated. "There was some warning that you might show up," he went on, not moving from his spot. He sat beneath an archway, sitting lotus-style.

Iroh carefully eased out of his stance. He put his hands together and bowed. "I greet you, gateway spirit," he said softly, keeping his head bowed.

"Save it," the monkey replied caustically. "I can't help you. No one can. You have to leave."

Iroh struggled to keep his composure. It was one thing to hear it from his men, that nothing could have been done; it was another to hear it in this place, after all that he had gone through to set foot here. He raised his head, his eyes sparking with old fury. "I misunderstood," he replied, his voice thick with his anger. "I had always assumed that the Spirits were wise, and cunning."

The monkey raised what could have been an eyebrow. "You have nerve, I'll give you that."

Iroh smiled. It wasn't a nice smile. "So you know that I have lost my son, and have come here to bring him back." It wasn't a question.

The monkey sighed, then looked up, looking very serious. "Listen; once someone crosses over, that's it; unless they're someone like the Avatar, or like Koh, you can't cross over willy-nilly. You especially are putting yourself at risk, coming here, at your age."

Iroh shook his head. "I would have thought that compared to you, I'd be something of a youngster." He stood up, gave another short bow, and started away from the archway.

The monkey stared in disbelief. "If you get lost here, you might not be able to return!" he called after the prince.

Iroh's eyes narrowed. "That's better than the alternative," he murmured, mostly to himself.

He trudged slowly, carefully, through the muddy shallow waters and the thick sludge of mud. He wasn't sure where he was going, or how he was going to find Lu Ten, or what he was going to do once he found him, but he was determined to do it, regardless.

As he walked, Iroh noticed that the landscape seemed to twist and change slightly with every step. At first, he had thought that it was merely his eyes playing tricks, but he knew better. Occasionally, as he walked, a faint residual of…_something_…would brush past him, or something would appear at the peripheral of his vision, only to vanish when he looked right at it. There was no rhyme or reason to the place, no real pattern or layout to it.

It was humbling. It was also terrifying.

Only the thought of Lu Ten, the memory of his eyes, the nightmare of his death, kept Iroh from turning from the insanity of this place and leaving it behind forever.

"What do you think you're doing?"

The voice stopped Iroh in his steps, not just because it was stern, and formidable, but because there was a quality in it that was…_familiar_.

He looked around, only to find that no one was near him.

"You're not supposed to be here yet."

Iroh felt his heart race. For the first time since crossing over, he finally realised what he was doing, the gravity of the situation that had cut through the grief, and suddenly he was afraid.

"Who are you?" he managed to choke out, his eyes narrowed. He held out his hands, ready to firebend if need be, but only a chuckle met his words.

There was a flash from below him; belatedly Iroh realised that the source of the voice had been beneath his feet. It reached up and shaped itself into a tall, regal-looking man.

One Iroh recognised only from paintings. His eyes widened, and he bowed as low as his joints would allow him, shutting his eyes.

Roku smiled. "There's not quite a need for that here," he said kindly. Iroh looked up; the former Avatar looked faded slightly, almost transparent. "Here, we are all equals."

"Avatar Roku," Iroh began carefully, his throat suddenly dry. He kept his hands together, but he raised his head. "I admit that I'm not here on a pleasure journey. I'm here for Lu Ten."

Roku's small smile faded. "I know this," was the reply. "And surely you know the futility of such an attempt."

Iroh took in a deep breath, held it, and exhaled it slowly. It was all he could do in reply to such words. It was that, or let his temper rule and start shouting at one of the greatest Avatars in history.

When he could, Iroh spoke. "I do not know why you have honoured me with your appearance, Avatar Roku, and indeed I am honoured, but my reasons are that of a personal matter. They _cannot_, and _will not_, be ignored."

The last words came out angry, but at least he had managed to keep his voice level.

Roku shut his eyes and sighed. "You speak to me as if _I_ am the one who is making a foolish mistake, when _you_ are the one who has abandoned his body to chase a phantom."

The words cut deep. "I'm not chasing a phantom, I'm chasing my _son_, my flesh and blood!" Iroh snapped.

Roku merely looked at him.

"He is all that I have left!" Iroh continued. He felt himself shaking, felt the grief consuming his guts in waves, and he couldn't clamp down on it. "Without him in my life, I have _nothing_! There is no joy, no bright light in this hell of war, only darkness! And you, Avatar or not, _cannot stop me_!"

_Now _he was shouting, he realised too late.

Roku's eyes narrowed into slits. He was frowning, but he kept himself the image of complete calm. "You seem to truly know your place in the river of life," he observed mildly. "That without Lu Ten, you can't live, nor can you make a difference. But you seem to be forgetting one key issue, one key player, that will factor into your life and give it meaning once more."

Iroh clenched his fists. He was a reasonable man, and was known himself to quote parables and fables, but the irony of having the tables turned while consumed with grief and anger was not something he needed at the moment. "Help me, or leave me."

Roku said nothing. He merely glared back at Iroh.

"You say that there is a life without my son, but truly, you have never lost a child, or else you would not say something so ridiculous," Iroh went on, breaking away from Roku's gaze and looking down. His eyes were unfocused, and they filled with silent tears. "To raise a child, to put your heart and soul into their happiness, to watch them grow and love them and cherish them…only to have them cruelly taken away from you…the pain is too much…"

"So without Lu Ten, you would rather die."

Iroh looked up, feeling helpless. "Yes," he agreed.

"How impulsively selfish," Roku spat. "You would dare ignore my great-grandson because of selfishness?"

Iroh paused, something seizing deep inside of his chest. "Great-grandson?" he echoed. He had always known that Ursa, his brother Ozai's wife, was rumoured to be descended from Avatar Roku, but he had never heard it confirmed.

"Zuko?" he wondered out loud, the name bringing an image of his passionate, clumsy and determined nephew.

If he didn't know better, he would have sworn that Roku rolled his eyes. "Of course, Zuko. The fates, the Spirits, all have paths for us. Grief, anger, sadness, war…these are all inevitable stepping stones on the path of life, ones that force us to see that happiness, love, and forgiveness are twice as important because they are twice as rare. Trying to foolishly take matters so far beyond you into your own hands is folly, Iroh. And you know it."

Iroh sighed, lowering his head. The truth of the words, and their weight, resonated deeply within him. "But what does my nephew Zuko have to do with this?" he wondered absently.

Roku looked at him, and for the first time, Iroh saw a great sadness in the Avatar's eyes. "Zuko has a hard life ahead of him," he admitted. "He will struggle, and need guidance, and joy, in his life in order to maintain his own personal balance. He will need someone to count on, someone to depend on, and most of all, he will need someone to love him for all that he is."

Iroh felt something break, deep in his heart. It was enough to lose his own son, but to know that his young nephew, one who was so light-hearted, so eager to please…was so doomed to disappoint. He couldn't allow his family to shatter more than it already was.

"So you want me to go back," Iroh said softly, "and be there for my nephew."

Roku nodded.

_But my son…_ his thoughts swirled in his mind, warring with his common sense.

"If you do not do this, if you remain here, then the Fire Nation will consume everything," Roku snapped, as if hearing Iroh's thoughts. "They will spread, like wildfire, and will not stop until everything is ashes. And your family will suffer needlessly, all because of your selfishness."

"You do not know," Iroh began again, but Roku's eyes blazed, not just with anger, but with an inner white fire.

"You forget who you are speaking to," Roku said, and Iroh heard it; the echoes of other voices, both male and female. "I have lived hundreds of lifetimes, over and over, experience hundreds of lives, felt hundreds of forms of agony. And yet I still persevere. I will still suffer. I will still be in pain. All for life's sake. _You cannot change this_!"

Iroh cowered, shaken deep to the core of his soul, by the power and threat in the older man's words. He shut his eyes, knowing that Roku spoke the truth, and knowing that he had to return to a world without Lu Ten, but it was…it was a possibility shaded in grey, and more painful than he could have imagined.

When Roku spoke again, it was with his normal voice. "I understand the pain of losing a loved one," he said gently. "But you cannot ignore the value of your own life. You are needed, Iroh, Dragon of the West, in the world of the living. You _must_ accept this as your path."

Iroh said nothing. He was unable to.

"And when the pain consumes you, when you feel that all is lost, all you need to do is look into the eyes of your nephew, and you will see a reason to live."

Iroh looked up at this, his eyes overflowing. "Zuko," he murmured.

Roku nodded. "Yes," he agreed.

"I have to…return."

"Yes."

Iroh reached up and rubbed his eyes. "My son…"

"You will see again when the time is right," Roku finished. "Until then, appreciate what you have, because you of all people know how fleeting life can be. Respect it, revel in it, and most of all, do not forget it."

Roku reached forward slowly with one hand, and Iroh closed his eyes.

* * *

And found himself back in his chambers on the ship. He shivered, frozen to the core, and he reached up and breathed into his hands, his breath of fire bringing warmth to his frozen limbs. It was only when he felt the depth of the cold did he realise how close he had been to crossing over permanently regardless.

He shut his eyes, hunching over. He had more to deal with, he knew. There was the funeral, the cremation, and the fact that he had failed to bring down Ba Sing Se. But all of that seemed distant, too painful to acknowledge, too hot a fire to touch.

Instead, when he closed his eyes and tried to picture his son in his youth, it was his nephew that he saw instead.

And despite everything, it comforted him.


	3. Blue

_**Writer's Note:**__ This is written for Secondlina, who prompted me to write something Sokka/Toph for the word "Blue". I wrote it mostly in friendship, but with Toph still nursing her crush on Sokka. Hope you like it!_

**WARNING: Spoilers for Sozin's Comet. Occurs post-series.**

"Please stop trying. Stop it now."

"But…it's my favourite colour, and I really think if I managed to describe it enough to you, you would understand."

Toph groaned. Sokka had been trying to describe it for an _hour_ and she still couldn't understand it. No matter how many times she tried to tell him that it was incredibly useless to try and help her understand colours, _he still kept trying._

Toph liked Sokka, she really did. She at times actually adored him. He was funny, clever, and quick on his feet. He exuded a type of fanatic energy that was endearing without overwhelming her, and he was one of the few people that never looked down on her for being blind. He did occasionally forget, but that was okay. Most of the people closest to her did.

At the moment, they were enjoying a quiet morning together in the North Pole. Sokka had insisted that she had to visit, and if she wasn't going to come south, which was further away from her, then she had to come to the North.

Sokka had also mentioned that, currently, the South was a complete mess with rebuilding and restructuring, but insisted that his first point was the main one.

They sat side-by-side together, leaned in close to share body warmth against the chill of the morning. Despite her many protests and amount of screaming, Sokka had insisted that she wore boots, or she would be stuck inside for the whole duration of the trip. They were scratchy, hindered her sight, and felt horrible, but when Sokka lectured her on the horrors of frostbite, she complied.

"Okay," Sokka began again. Toph rubbed her face with her gloved hands and fancied throwing herself off the bridge where they sat. "So, imagine this, alright? You know how you can sense people and how they are by feeling them through your bending, right?"

"Yes," Toph answered flatly.

"Right, so you can easily tell if that person is a bender, right?"

"Yes, most of the time," Toph muttered. "If they know it themselves, I can. Is there a point to this?"

"Yes!" Sokka answered back. "When you see that they're a bender, how can you tell?"

Toph growled. "I just _know_," she answered. "I can just tell, by the way their blood flows and the way their heart beats. It's just…inside of them."

Sokka's voice grew excited, and she could feel, despite the fuzziness, his heart beat faster. "Right, so can you tell the difference between the types of bending?" he asked her.

"Yes," Toph mumbled. "This is boring and repetitive. Can we go penguin-sledding now?"

"No! No penguin-sledding until you understand blue!" Sokka answered back angrily, and she sighed, long-suffering.

"I already told you like a hundred times to give it up!" Toph snapped back. "I can't understand colours. Can we please move on now, pleeeeeeeease?"

She had hoped that the whining would win Sokka over, or at least make him feel guilty, but no dice. "No! Listen! When it comes to firebending, what is it that you see?"

Toph frowned, considering. This was a new line of questioning. "Something hot, something that burns really deep within someone's gut. It kind of feels like water, but thicker."

"Okay. How about earthbending?"

Toph smiled. "Warm, too, but a comfortable kind of warmth, like a hug. Solid and reassuring."

Suddenly, she felt Sokka's arms around her, and he squeezed her so hard that she felt her cheeks burn and her heart race. "Augh, that was so cute!" he gushed, embarrassing her.

"Get off me, you idiot!" Toph snapped, punching at him. He yelped and obeyed, although if she were to be honest, she would have admitted that he let go too quickly.

"Okay," Sokka continued, and she could feel him rubbing his shoulder. She smirked. "How about airbending?"

"I hate airbending," Toph admitted. "It's hard to feel. Aang always feels so light and floaty that I can barely feel him half of the time. It's really frustrating."

Sokka paused, thinking about that. "You hate it?" he echoed.

"Yes!" Toph answered. "It's not like I hate Aang; I just hate how his bending makes him invisible! When he's doing any other kind of bending, he's fine. It's just his airbending that makes me crazy."

"So that's why you kept nagging him about earthbending," Sokka replied, sounding amused.

"Shut up," Toph answered.

Sokka laughed, and his laugh made her smile. "Now, we get to my point. What does waterbending feel like?"

Toph thought about it. "It feels cool, and soothing, like a cold glass of juice on a hot day. It flows deep within a person and makes them languid and easygoing…mostly." She smiled, reminded of Katara's often outbursts.

Sokka squirmed beside her. "That's blue!" he exclaimed. "That's what blue is. And the others, firebending is red, earthbending is green, and airbending is yellow!"

Toph leaned back, taking one glove off with her teeth. A finger absently went into her nose as she thought about it. "I dunno," she said slowly. "That doesn't sound quite right to me."

"Trust me, it is!" Sokka replied. She heard him clap twice, and she laughed. "I get applause?" she wondered. "How sweet."

She felt him stand up, then lean back down and grab her hand in his. Her heart fluttered, but to cover it up, she pulled her finger out of her nose and flicked what she found to the side, knowing that it barely missed him. "Nice," he mumbled, dragging her up to her feet.

"Okay, I get your damned blue," she said crabbily, although inside, she was actually happy that she managed to understand it as much as she did. "Can we _please_ go penguin-sledding now?"

Sokka laughed, keeping her hand held in his. "You got it," he agreed. He led the way, and Toph grinned, following him without question, all while plotting his sledding demise.


	4. The Shadow

_**Writer's Note:**__ I had always wondered what the story was behind Ty Lee's comment in "The Beach" when reacting to Zuko's fury. It was never, ever explained, so I thought about it, and came up with this little fic. _

_**Zuko:**__ You don't know me, so why don't you just mind your own business!_

_**Ty Lee**__: *softly* I know you._

_**Zuko:**__ No, you don't! You're stuck in your little Ty Lee world where everything's great all the time._

Ty Lee hadn't always been Azula's shadow.

There was a time, when they were smaller, when, as Zuko put it, "my family was actually happy," that Ty Lee was often seen a few steps behind Zuko, not his younger sister.

No one, least of all Zuko, really understood why this was. It just sort of happened one day. One moment, Ty Lee was being swamped by her sisters, the last in a chain of identical faces, then next, she was suddenly following the young prince like he had tied a leash on her.

Except that, at first, Zuko didn't even realise he was being followed.

Of course, Ty Lee never made it obvious. Even at that age, she was already lithe and quick on her feet, prone to tumbling and leaping as a way to travel. For the first week she started, Zuko hadn't even realised he was being tailed. In fact, only Azula seemed to realise what was going on, and that was only because she was missing a playmate.

The day Zuko noticed went like this...

* * *

It was a particularly balmy day on Ember Island, one that Zuko actually found himself welcoming. It was only a year ago that his family discovered his firebending ability, although deep down, Zuko himself had always suspected it. On days like this one, when the heat not only seemed to envelope him, but also come from within, were particularly nice for him.

A shadow fell over him suddenly, and he growled. He had been lying in the sand, relishing in the biting prickles of heat that stabbed into his skin, and he had been close to nodding off.

"Oh, don't growl at me, big brother," Azula's snotty, six-year-old voice chided. "I want to play with you."

Zuko sighed and opened an eye. To his dismay, a month before his own bending surfaced, Azula's had shown up first, and thus his triumph had been severely tainted.

There was something about Azula that always got him irritated, be it the way she spoke, or the way she went through her studies, or the way she recited the morning salutes...it bothered him. And now, here on the beach, being interrupted out of a personal solace was no better.

"Go away!" he snapped, waving a hand at her. "I don't want to play with you. Go play with Mai!"

Azula scrunched up her face. "Mai is hiding in the shadows."

Zuko opened both eyes. "She's what?" he echoed.

"Hiding in the shadows. Something about the whiteness of her skin."

Zuko stared. "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard," he declared flatly.

Azula shrugged. "She swore she would get into trouble if she got any sun." Azula scooted closer and grabbed one of Zuko's hands, pulling on it hard. "Come on, Zuzu! I want to play!"

Zuko tried to free himself from her grasp, but she dug her nails in and he yelped. "I don't want to play!" he repeated, louder this time.

"But you're hogging Ty Lee all to yourself!" Azula whined. "I want someone to play with!"

"You mean you want someone to _boss around_..." Zuko started to snap back, but then he focused. "Wait, Ty Lee, what?"

Azula stopped pulling on him. "Ty Lee's been at your side forever!" she wailed, although Zuko could tell she was faking it. He had always been able to see through her airs. "You keep hogging her. Either let her play with me or _you _play with me!"

"What are you...? I'm not hogging Ty Lee!" Zuko snapped, finally freeing his hand. He scrambled to his feet and stood over his sister, glaring down at her. "Stop making things up just because you want to be annoying!"

Azula's face suddenly went very dark, almost ugly. She glared up at him, then wordlessly pointed behind him, almost stabbing the air with her finger. Zuko frowned, then turned around.

Ty Lee crouched in the shadow of the closest tree, her eyes huge on her small face. When she saw them looking, she smiled and waved.

"What the...?" Zuko stared.

"She's been following you for days," Azula said snidely. "She's even starting to walk and sound like you."

Ty Lee, obviously sensing she was the topic of discussion, jumped to her feet and pulled herself up into the tree above her. As graceful as a hog-monkey and twice as quiet, she threw herself through the treetops above, then dropped herself down right behind Zuko.

He jumped and turned around, his face bright red. He was embarrassed and he wasn't quite sure why. "What are you doing, following me?!" he demanded, his voice clipped with imperial enunciation.

Azula snorted behind him. He was about to turn and kick her when Ty Lee answered, throwing her arms out wide. "I like you, Zuko!" she declared, her eyes dancing. "You're so much fun. I love to follow you!"

Azula snorted again, only this time, it graduated into sniggering. Zuko's face burned. "What are you talking about?" he demanded.

Ty Lee giggled. In a flash, she zipped over to him and stood mere inches away from him. Her eyes were even bigger up close, and they shone with mirth and joy. "You're so funny!" she said happily. "You always get so mad, and you're always muttering under your breath. You stomp around alot, and you blush alot. It's sooo great!"

"Wow, Zuzu," Azula gasped out. "You actually have an admirer."

"What?!" he sputtered. "Shut up, Azula!" His eyes landed on Ty Lee's, and he glared at her. "Listen!" he snapped. "You shouldn't hang around me! You're too little, and besides, it creeps me out! Go away!"

Instead of being insulted, she merely giggled in delight. "See? Funny!"

It didn't end there.

At dinner that night, when everyone, including Uncle Iroh and Lu Ten, gathered outside under canopies for an evening supper on the shore, Ty Lee was often missing. It was only when Zuko actually made an effort to locate her that he found her in the most random of places, like in a tree, or hanging from a ledge, or the weirdest, perched on the top of one of the canopies.

"Uh," Lu Ten said to him, his mouth full of smoky spiced meat. "I think you have a girlfriend."

Zuko fumed. He loved his cousin, and was always trying to impress the older boy. Being reminded of his girly shadow made him feel stupid and childish in front of Lu Ten. "She is _not_ my girlfriend!" he exploded.

Lu Ten took another bite of his meat and shrugged. At fifteen, he was nearing the age that he would be able to join the army, something that Zuko envied. Lu Ten himself, however, didn't seem to really care too much about it. In fact, Lu Ten seemed to have a sort of blasé outlook on everything.

"Suit yourself," he said now. "But I think she's already got your wedding planned."

As Lu Ten walked away to get more food, Zuko growled and his palms itched horribly.

He wanted to confront Ty Lee about it, but honestly, he wasn't sure how. Girls were so weird, always giggling and plotting and doing weird things. It was like they spoke a completely different language, one that he knew he would never be able to master. He wanted to be left alone, but at the same time, he didn't want to hurt her feelings. It wasn't that he didn't LIKE her; he just wanted to be left alone!

He resolved to worry about it in the morning.

He woke up, like he always did, when the sun broke over the horizon. Because it was summer, it was ridiculously early, but since most of his family consisted of firebenders, no one seemed to mind when he got up and walked out to the beach.

It was the one thing he loved the most about being on Ember Island. There was something about how secluded the beach was so early in the morning that got his blood pumping. As soon as he found a level spot, he launched right into his firebending basics.

Even though Zuko felt elated about being a firebender, there was something, somewhere deep down within him, that was disappointed. Of everyone in his family, he thought that he had the greatest chance of being a prodigy; he was the first child, born on a day filled with good omens, right at the crack of dawn. Shouldn't that count for something?

But even though it was clear that he was a bender, it was also clear that his skills were small, and needed alot of work and encouragement to progress. He often struggled with the most basic forms of bending, and even when he put his whole heart into progressing, he always came out of it frustrated and barely moving up at all.

That morning on the beach, he moved through the steps. He slid into form, sliding his arms and legs through the patterns that had been burned into his brain. His fingertips sparked, his feet glittered with cinders, but somehow, it wasn't enough. He knew it wasn't enough. It was over a year, and he was still struggling with the basics.

_Would it ever get easier?_

He ploughed on, the sweat dripping into his eyes, his grunts and mutters falling on deaf ears. By the time he finished the last set of moves, he was exhausted, covered in sweat, and sore all over. He wanted to jump into the water, but a voice stopped him.

"That was _really pretty_."

Jerkily, Zuko turned around. Ty Lee was standing just a few feet away, her hands behind her back. She was smiling. "Are those firebending moves?"

Zuko found he could hardly breathe, he was so angry. His exercises were, to him, something very personal, very private. He felt not only humiliated, but violated, and all because this one girl couldn't take a hint!

As he struggled to find words, Ty Lee suddenly slid into a perfect stance, her hands out, her legs bent. "Like this?" she said cheerfully. Without waiting for a confirmation, she proceeded to go through a set of bending moves. It wouldn't have been so bad, except that she got them all right, perfectly, and she did it with such grace and serenity that it made Zuko feel like a lumbering elephant-goat.

Of course, no fire sparked from her hands or feet, but that didn't matter. What mattered was that even Ty Lee, who wasn't even a bender, was better at it than he was.

"Fine!" he suddenly burst out, his voice cracking with his fury. Ty Lee jumped, her hands out, her face shocked. "_Fine_! You're so much better than me! You can do it perfectly!" He threw his hands up in the air. "You and Azula should form a club! The 'Better Than Zuko' club!"

The younger girl stood, her arms limp at her sides, her face full of shock and hurt. "That's not what I ..."

"What? Not what you were doing?!" he snapped back. "You did it anyway! Everyone is better than me at everything! I don't even have firebending to myself anymore!"

"Zuko, I..."

"_What do you want from me?!_" Zuko suddenly burst out, his voice strangled. When his eyes began to sting, both he and Ty Lee froze in shock.

For a moment, neither child moved. Then, slowly, Zuko reached up with one hand and placed it to his cheek. It was wet. His cheeks flushed with further shame, but he didn't walk away like he wanted to. He just stood there, staring at the sand beneath his feet.

"I just wanted to play with you," Ty Lee said, her voice small.

Zuko winced. The hurt in her voice was plain as the sun was hot. He instantly felt horrible about his shouting, especially when it wasn't even really her fault.

But when he looked up to apologise, she was gone.

Nothing was said about what happened on the beach that morning. When Ty Lee started playing with Azula again, no one seemed to notice that it was a change from the past week.

Only Azula had something to say about it. She cornered him on the last day on Ember Island. Her face was a careful mix of smugness and triumph, a face that he would soon get used to seeing.

"You can't even keep friends that _want_ to be at your side, Zuzu," was all she said. She smirked, turned away, and ran back towards the house.

The words haunted him for years, just like she knew they would.


	5. Heartfire

_**Writer's Note**__: If I told any of you where I got this idea, I would have to kill you (and myself). So let's say it fell out of the sky. In any rate, I always thought it was kind of irritating that we never got to be privy to what the dragons really said to Zuko and Aang. So, in a flash of inspiration, I jotted this down. Short and sweet, but to the point. Enjoy!_

**Warning: Takes place during "The Firebending Masters" and contains spoilers.**

Zuko wasn't sure what he thought when the pillar of fire burst forth from the dragons' maws and enveloped him and Aang. He could guess, but he wasn't quite sure. It was all a blur.

He probably thought of Iroh, whose only crime was believing in his nephew. Of Mai, whom he left behind without saying a real goodbye. Of his father and sister, who would now not have to worry about killing him, because he was going to die here, a blazing and painful death...

But the fire didn't hurt.

Bewildered, Zuko reached out and touched the flames with shaking fingers. It felt warm, like someone's breath on your cheek. It didn't bite, nor did it burn.

It was then that he heard them. The voices.

At first he thought he was going insane. He actually put a hand to his head and tried to force the thoughts out.

But then he realised the dragons were speaking to him.

He heard their names, forgotten in an instant, but their meanings lingered inside of him.

He felt their curiosity, their surprise.

He felt their scrutiny as they delved deep within his mind, pulling out shards of fragmented memories that he wished could vanish into plumes of smoke.

He felt their recognition, realising who he was related to, felt their grudging frustration coupled with reluctant respect.

And then, deep within him, in a place he never knew existed, he heard them speak. Not so much with words, but with raw emotion, raw feeling. It left him feeling giddy, and energised, and like he could fling himself into a volcano and swim through the lava like a serpent-fish.

They said, _You have been burned yourself, by the fires of misplaced fury and hatred._

They said, _You do not even trust yourself._

They said, _You have so much fury inside of you, so much that has been inherited, but you do not use it like they do._

They said, _You have not been as cruel as you could have been._

They said, _You are who you are, Prince Zuko, both good and bad. You have erred, but you are on the right path. _

They said, _We will help you. We will always help you._

They said, and this he would never forget: _Our kinsman._

And then their fire was gone, and in an instant, they followed it. He stood, swaying a little, feeling breathless, almost violated, but not exactly. It was almost like he had been laid bare, picked apart, put back together, and then hugged. And yet, it was also nothing like that.

It was like they had unlocked something, and opened a floodgate of determination and passion, burning deep within his guts.

Slowly, Zuko turned to Aang, who was turning to face him. He could tell, just by meeting the younger boy's eyes, that he had gone through the exact same thing.

Together, they shared a smile, and turned towards the staircase, where the Sun Warriors waited for them.


	6. One to Four, then the Floor

_**Writer's Note:** This is what happens when you get a bunch of Avatar fans in one chatroom and start talking about the dynamics of Zuko and Katara's relationship. It ends up spawning pure, complete crack, which is what this fic is. I have no excuse for this fic, except that it was hilarious to write. Thank you, you awesome ladies. You know who you are._

The Firebrand was one of the more popular bars nestled within the Fire Nation's capitol city. While it boasted a low violence rate, it still held a rather colourful reputation as being popular with low-brows.

It was, in Katara's mind, perfect.

Zuko scowled, his expression practically murderous. "Why am I here, with you, right now?" he muttered, pulling his hood further down over his face.

Katara rolled her eyes and grabbed his arm, dragging him towards the bar. "Shut up and come on," was her reply.

The whole thing had been Aang's idea, oddly...

* * *

They had come to visit Zuko, to discuss with him what had caustically been described as "the torch under my pyre," by Zuko himself. Everything had been relatively quiet for a few weeks, which in turn had both of them relaxing a bit.

When Aang noticed Katara's lack of relaxing, he suggested that since she and Zuko appeared to be in the same boat that perhaps they should spend an evening out. What surprised Katara was the complete lack of jealousy in the suggestion, but not for long. Aang was like that. He loved her, but in his own way, he loved Zuko, too. He wanted them both to be happy.

"Just ask Zuko about some places to have fun" Aang suggested. "He'll think of something!"

* * *

Zuko stared. "Go? Fun? What?" he stammered.

Mai snickered, and he shot her a look. Katara struggled hard not to follow Mai's lead. "You and I, Zuko. We're both stressed, tired, and in need of a break."

Instantly, Zuko turned to Mai, who, in turn, yawned rather pointedly. "I'm too tired, and I promised Iroh a game of Pai Sho," she said.

"Come on, Zuko," Katara said, catching Zuko's dismayed look. "I was doubtful at first, but it's actually not a bad idea. Don't you know of _any_ place?"

Zuko frowned, then actually seemed to think about it for a moment. "Well, there was one place that Ji used to talk about..."

* * *

Upon seeing it, Zuko contemplated having Ji arrested.

It was loud. It was busy. It was full of drunken men and women, a loud band playing louder music, and the consistent mingling of several smells.

Katara, however, took it with good humour. She remembered the days when the men of her village were still around, and would spend hours around the bonfire, smoking the community pipe and sipping wine, getting chattier and louder with each pass of the wineskin. The sounds and smells, for a split second, sort of reminded her of home.

"Come on, Zuko!" she hissed, tugging on his arm harder. "It'll be fun!"

"I do. Not. Drink," he snarled, although he allowed himself to be pulled through the crowd and shoved into a chair.

Katara sat down beside him, waving to the bartender. Zuko seemed to shrink even further under his hood. "Why don't you drink?"

Zuko's face reddened. "I, uh, don't seem to have the stomach for it," he muttered.

"You mean you puke?"

"No!" he snapped. "I just...it goes to my head really fast!"

Katara suddenly had a really horrible idea, one that was probably mean, but also incredibly hilarious. And it was sure to help Zuko forget his troubles, to say the least.

She leaned over and ordered two drinks from the bartender. When they arrived, Zuko glowered at the glass before him. Katara grinned at him. "Come on!" she teased, nudging him. "Drink!"

Zuko sighed, his hand reaching for the glass.

* * *

By the third one, Katara couldn't believe the transformation.

Zuko had his elbows on the table, one hand propping his head up, the other curved around the glass. His hood was down, and his shaggy hair was messy and in his face. His eyes were a little glassy, his cheeks pink, but the best part was the grin on his face.

"You know who's pretty?" he wondered, his words coming out slowly, as if he was trying very hard to ennunciate. "Mai."

Katara smirked into her glass, taking a sip. She, herself, was still on her first. "Mai sure is pretty, you're right."

Zuko blinked, his eyes wide. The smile vanished. "N-not that you're _not_ pretty!" he stammered. "You are! I mean, pretty like a sister! Well," he made a face. "Not like _my_ sister..." He laughed. "Who would want to be like my sister?" The smile faded, and he looked confused. "You know that I know you're not my sister, right?"

Katara hoped she would never forget this night as long as she lived.

* * *

It wasn't long before Zuko gave a final giggle before slumping forward onto the table. At first, Katara felt a flash of worry, only to be replaced by sheer amusement when she heard the snoring erupt from him.

She waved to the bartender, paid him for Zuko's drinks as well as her one, and with absolutely no regret, walked out of the Firebrand.

She laughed the whole way home.

_Aang was right; that _was_ fun!_

* * *

Zuko awoke to find himself on what felt like a very gritty floor. Something was nudging him in the ribs.

He opened his eyes, his mouth tasting like cotton soaked in mud, and blearily focus above him.

He was pretty sure it was the bartender, and he was nudging Zuko with his foot.

"Hey, uh..." the bartender said uneasily. "Aren't you the Fire Lord or something?"

Zuko opened his mouth to reply, something like a cross between haughty indignation and sheer rage, but what came out was something along the lines of, "Fwuh-huh-huh?"

"Uh, yeah," the bartender said uneasily, edging away. "I'll just...go over here."

Zuko groaned, shutting his eyes. When he heard more footsteps coming towards him, he just lay there, unable to move or react.

Familiar hands reached down and grabbed onto him, pulling him roughly to his feet. He almost lost it right there, but a sharp voice stopped him.

"Puke on me and die," Mai warned, keeping a firm hold on him. He leaned into her, and together they walked back to the Palace, Zuko practically being dragged along.

He would never, ever live it down.


	7. Jet's Legacy

**Warning: Occurs post-series and contains spoilers.**

Sometimes, rarely, Zuko found himself thinking about Jet.

It was strange, because while they had had a fleeting partnership on the ferry to Ba Sing Se, Zuko hadn't thought much else about the other young man.

There was bitterness there. The fact that Jet had gone out of his way to try and expose Zuko and Iroh for being firebenders was a good start. To Zuko, it was unfair to be singled out that way, especially since they were trying to move on from that.

And yet, despite that, there was certainly a kind of passion that Zuko had admired in Jet, a sort of enigmatic charisma that drew people into his circle of Freedom Fighters and led them to believe that what he felt was the only feeling that mattered. Years on the throne would never give Zuko that kind of fire, that kind of thirst for justice, not in a way that would make him lose reason for what was thought of as the greater good.

But there had also a lurking darkness in Jet, one that, even when he had tried to be good, was evident in the darkness of his eyes and the bitter lines of his mouth. That young man had been burned, badly, and because he was suffering, he wanted the world to know it and suffer right along with him.

Zuko didn't think of Jet in a way that would qualify as affectionate. Nor did he think of Jet in a way that would be considered missing him. To Zuko, there had been very little within Jet that was redeeming, even when he had tried, and when he had learned that Jet had been killed shortly after their fight in the alley, he had felt shock, but not the sadness that his friends shared.

No, his thoughts sometimes lingered on Jet for very different reasons.

That darkness, that desperate passion and yearning to set things right....that blind rage, that persistent stubbornness to continue even if it meant harming those around him... For these reasons, Jet had actually terrified Zuko.

It wasn't that Jet had made Zuko afraid for his life. No, it was far deeper than that. What scared Zuko so badly was the fact that when he looked at Jet, he saw himself, or the man he could have been if he hadn't chosen the right path.

When Jet had refused to give up trying to expose Zuko and Iroh, all Zuko could think of was himself hunting Aang.

When Jet had spoken of getting back at those who had wronged him, all Zuko could think of was getting revenge on Azula, on Aang, on everyone that had made his life harder.

When Jet became desperate, screaming that he was being honest, shouting that he wasn't the bad guy, all Zuko could think of was, _he's right, and he's being punished for it...just like me._

No, it wasn't with affection that Zuko remembered Jet. It was with trepidation, with regret, and, most of all, with fear. The eternal, devouring fear that if he wasn't careful, he, too, would end up sharing Jet's fate, and will die alone and a victim, without redemption.

And for those reasons, Jet would always linger in his mind.


	8. Get Bent

**Warning: Takes place between _The Southern Raiders_ and _the Ember Island Players._ Contains spoilers for everything before TSR. **

"No, like _this_, Sokka," Suki chided him sternly, holding her arms out akimbo and tilting her body into a graceful stance. "You have to lean into the strike, not flail madly like that."

Sokka groaned, smacking a hand to his forehead so hard that the smack could be heard throughout the entire camp. "That's how I fight; with flails!"

Suki made a face, pulling herself out of the stance and putting her hands on her hips. "That's just stupid."

Sokka puffed out his cheeks. "_You're_ stupid."

Suki's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Are you looking to drown today?"

"Um," Zuko peered over one of the stone faces that littered the beachside, his face a mix of worry and curiosity. "Should I be worried about this?"

"Zuko, you're a guy, sort of," Sokka replied, forcing Zuko's face to scrunch up in irritation. "Tell Suki that it's unrealistic for someone to fight like she does."

Suki crossed her arms over her chest. "Define 'like she does'," she snapped.

Zuko walked over, deciding that this was as much as an invitation as he'd get from them. He still looked bemused. "What are you talking about?"

"Okay, since Suki and I are the only normal, non-freaky-bending people around here..." when Zuko's face darkened, Sokka held up his hands. "Not that I mean it's a bad thing!" he amended hastily before going on. "But because we don't have that kind of freak-uh-_uniqueness-_ about us, we're kind of left with fewer options, you know?"

Zuko blinked slowly. "How is not being a bender limited?"

Now it was Suki and Sokka that looked confused. "How is it _un_limited?" Suki answered.

"Being a bender is _extremely_ limited."

Sokka rubbed his eyes. "Wait a second, now I'm confused. Can we stop using the word 'limited' for a while? It's lost all meaning."

Both Suki and Zuko decided to ignore Sokka collectively. It was something they had bonded over. "I don't see how something as powerful as bending could be seen as something limited, Zuko," Suki said. "Most of us non-benders could never defend ourselves against a bender, and you know it."

Zuko crossed his arms over his chest. "That's not true," he said flatly. "Why do you think the Fire Nation has had such trouble with Kyoshi Island?"

Suki's eyes narrowed again, but whatever she wanted to say was interrupted. "Can we stop using 'bender' too?" Sokka wondered. "Because I think that word has lost meaning too."

Zuko rolled his eyes and sat down, cupping his chin in his hand. "Let me put it this way; while benders are lucky that we can control an element, and that we can work with it, it takes _years_ to master it, really and truly master it." His eyes flicked between Suki and Sokka almost reproachfully. "In that time, someone who isn't a bender could easily master at least three martial arts. Benders have to keep to one, in order to keep their own abilities pure."

Suki blinked, her anger instantly replaced by interest. She knelt down, resting her weight on her heels like she always did, her eyes fixed on Zuko intently. "I've never heard it like that before," she admitted.

"Wait, guys, can we go back to sparring now?" Sokka broke in, leaning down and pouting a little. "Because I really don't care about this."

Suki's hand shot up, grabbed the hem of his shirt, and dragged him to the ground. With a shriek, he tumbled onto his rear, flailing his arms not unlike his fighting style, beside her. "Shut up and listen," was all she said to him.

Sokka rubbed his backside with an air of hurt dejection, but complied.

Suki waved a hand to Zuko. "Go on, go on."

Zuko's cheeks went a little pink, his eyes looking down at his hands. He wasn't too good at this sort of thing. "Uh," he stammered, "I know about this kind of thing, because I grew up with two people who weren't benders, and I watched them learn how to fight without it."

Suki nodded slowly. "I know exactly who you're talking about," she said, her eyes darkening a little at the thought.

"Wait," Sokka looked to her. "Who?"

Zuko reached up and scratched his cheek a little, feeling his cheeks redden even more. "Ty Lee, and...Mai."

Sokka paused, then jolted, throwing his hand out and pointing at Zuko. "Oh! Oh! You said Mai! Your _girlfriend_!" He grinned rather lecherously at this last word, drawing it out for as long as he could.

Zuko lowered his head, looking away, his hand now at the back of his head. "_That_ has nothing to do with _this_," he mumbled. "But yes, they're both non-benders, and I grew up with them, so I know..."

"I _bet_ you know!" Sokka grinned.

Suki punched his arm, hard. He squeaked, wincing, but he got the hint, and fell into another sulky quiet spell. "Go ahead, Zuko," she said.

"Anyway," Zuko continued, but his voice was much quieter, and his blush didn't fade. "Both Mai and Ty Lee, although they've each picked one style they favour, are actually skilled in a couple. It's what made them so dangerous when facing them; you never know what kind of fighting they would use."

"Whereas with a bender, there's only one," Suki concluded.

Zuko nodded. "Which, once the element of surprise is gone, leaves you somewhat out in the open."

Sokka shook his head. "I'm sorry, buddy, but I still think you're totally wrong," he said, surprising no one. "Even if you have just one style, or whatever, you still have the upper hand. No one's gonna care about what kind of punch to throw if they're _on fire._"

Suki shrugged one shoulder. "He does have a point," she admitted.

Zuko jumped, looking horrified. "What, he does not!" he cried. "Don't be fooled by his idea of logic!"

Suki held out her hands helplessly. "What? I can't argue with being on fire! I can't use my fan if I'm too busy rolling on the ground!"

Sokka snickered. Suki punched him again, this time so hard that he yowled and tipped over onto his side, crying out that he was dying.

"Suki," Zuko decided to focus on her, as she was showing the most sanity. "Do you know why I taught myself how to use dual broadswords?"

Suki leaned in close, her eyes alight with interest. "You know how to use dual broadswords?" she echoed excitedly. "That's amazing!"

"That also kind of makes you a hypocrite," Sokka said flatly from his place on the ground. "Because you claim that benders only have one style. That makes _two._"

"I know, I was getting to that," Zuko growled back at him. "If you would just shut up and let me talk!"

Sokka leapt to his feet, hands clenched into fists and held before him. "You and me, right now!"

"Sokka," Suki rolled her eyes.

"Actually, that's a great idea," Zuko agreed, slowly getting to his feet. "Just hold on a second."

He turned and ran back to the camp, then returned with his swords, forcing Sokka to pale and unsheathe his own sword, holding it before him. "He's gone crazy!" he yelped. "Suki, help me out!"

Suki shrugged, looking at her nails. A small smile tugged on her lips. "No, I'm alright here."

"_Suki!_"

"Sokka, I'm not going to hurt you," Zuko said, looking a cross between dismayed and disgusted. He held his swords limply in his hands. "I just want to prove my point, and explain something to Suki."

Sokka scowled, still holding his sword out. "I don't buy it! I have my eyes on you, buddy!"

Zuko decided to focus on Suki again. "Okay, so let's start it from being a bender, alright?" When she nodded, Zuko placed the swords on the ground behind him and slid into a starter's stance, hands fisted and held before him. Sokka was suddenly all business; he took a step back, swung his sword in a half-arc, and kept his eyes on Zuko.

With a shout, Zuko jumped forward, swinging first one arm, then the other, in slow circles towards Sokka. With each swing, he took a step forward. Sokka, who was smaller than Zuko, managed to slip around the bursts of flame, occasionally swinging his sword and bisecting a couple with ease. Zuko jumped back, sat down on his haunches, then leapt up, swinging one leg towards Sokka once more, a burst of fire erupting from the sole of his foot. With a shout, Sokka ducked and covered his head, and even though Zuko was making sure to be easy on him with his bending, he had to admit that even that shot had, unfortunately, come a little too close.

"Watch what you're doing, you jerk!" Sokka fumed, leaping to his feet and waving his sword at Zuko to emphasis his words.

Zuko rolled his eyes and darted forward again, this time launching a flurry of intense hits and kicks so fast that even Suki was having trouble following. Sokka, however, managed to parry most of them, getting singed only once, and it was a fluke. Pretty soon, even though Zuko was still trying, it was clear that Sokka was starting to learn the pattern of his moves and was adjusting to it, learning to anticipate what one move meant and what kind of bending it would bring.

When Sokka had successfully managed to not only knock Zuko down but also hold the tip of his sword to the firebender's neck, Zuko held up his hands in surrender, and Sokka crowed. Even though Zuko knew it was just sparring, and he hadn't been putting his all into the fight, his pride stung a little.

Suki was leaning forward, her blue eyes bright. "He learned," she said.

Zuko sat up slowly, smacking Sokka's sword away. "You see what I mean?" he said, looking from both Suki to Sokka, then back again when he realised that Sokka wasn't done gloating. "Even someone like Sokka, who hasn't spent most of his life fighting with that sword, was able to sense a pattern."

Suki chewed on her lip a little. "But can't that method of prediction be used for regular fighting as well?"

Zuko got to his feet, walked back to his swords, and picked them up, holding them out. "Let's find out," he replied with a sly grin.

Sokka uttered a sound that was a cross between a squeak and a choke. He leapt backwards and held his sword out again. "No bending, Zuko!" he cried.

"I know that," Zuko answered, still smiling. He held one sword above his head, the other level with his hip. "You get the first move."

Sokka narrowed his eyes, as if expecting a trick. However, it was too good a chance to miss, and he took it. He dipped into an easy stance, swung his sword a few times, then lunged with a shout. Zuko leaned forward, all of his weight on his right foot, and with a slow turn of his body, not only moved out of the way, but managed to get a hit on Sokka's sword. The clang of the two different metals sang through the air.

Sokka gaped at Zuko in disbelief, like he couldn't believe he had been deflected. From the sidelines, Suki's eyes narrowed sharply, and Zuko never lost his smile. With a frustrated yell, Sokka swung around and darted towards Zuko once more.

What followed was several fast minutes of swordplay that could have been considered a dance, if the type of dancing you liked could easily get you skewered. Sokka's swings and thrusts were fast-paced, quick, and agile. They consistently followed a steady rhythm of lunge, fall back, thrust, swing, and so on.

But Zuko, who was self-taught, had never learned basic drilling the way that Sokka had. His moves lacked the practiced ease that Sokka's had, but he made up for it how completely random his attacks were. Sokka, sensing this pretty quickly, began to adjust his own style, adding several embellishments to his attacks.

It was now starting to get serious. Both young men were fighting hard, and pretty soon were starting to lose stamina, quickly to be replaced by sweating and panting. It was a rather intense sparring match, Suki had to admit, but she also, secretly, thought that it was rather...fascinating. She watched, chin in her hands, her eyes wide, and occasionally, without noticing, licked her lips.

However, despite being a little distracted, Suki could actually see Zuko's point. When he used his bending, it was only at first that he had the advantage: he only had a few real good shots to bring Sokka down before the other young man wised up and was able to defend himself.

But now, on equal footing, it was clear that the battle was getting far more serious. It looked like they were either equally matched, or pretty close to it.

_Or maybe not._

"Gah!" Sokka suddenly spluttered out. Zuko had managed to slam the hilt of his sword right in his gut, and with a whoosh of breath and a cry, he smacked to the ground on his back, down and out. Zuko stood for a moment, panting, then dropped his swords and fell to the ground beside Sokka, exhausted.

Suki grinned, getting to her feet and clapping.

Zuko kept his eyes shut. "So you see," he muttered shortly between breaths. "Major difference. Most benders...rely on surprise. That's a mistake. Learned that the hard way."

"Coulda beaten you if you hadn't jerkbended first, jerk," Sokka answered sullenly.

"_You're _the jerk," Zuko snapped back. "What was with...the flailing?!"

"That's how I fight! With flails! Why can't either of you get it?!"

Zuko reached over and punched his shoulder. With a squawk, Sokka punched him right back. Which led to probably one of the most ridiculous punching fights in the history of young males that the universe has ever seen.

Suki walked over calmly and reached down, grabbing Sokka by the wolftail. He instantly went limp, whining a little, and he held his hands out. "I'm done, I'm sorry!" he protested.

Zuko snickered, but only until Suki sent a glare his way, and he blanched; he recognised that look from the prison, and he wasn't sure he wanted to face her down. She let go of Sokka, and he sat up and rubbed his head, looking wounded. Zuko shortly followed. "Do you get it now, Sokka?" he repeated.

Sokka's hand dropped from his head. "Get what? That no matter what method you choose, you're still a _jerk_?"

Zuko's eyes narrowed and his jaw set. "You're going to wish I left you in that prison," he hissed.

Suki rolled her eyes. "Are you forgetting the whole point of this?" she demanded, getting impatient. "The whole point was to prove that when fighting benders, we shouldn't feel like we're at a disadvantage." She looked at Sokka, who was, surprisingly, already looking at her. "You get that?"

"Yes," he said in his small voice.

Suki grinned and jumped into a stance. "Then get up and spar with _me_, both of you! I could use a good test!"

Both young men groaned and dropped back to the ground. There would be no more sparring that day.


	9. Stars

**Warning: Contains spoilers for Book Two and occurs shortly after **_**The Crossroads of Destiny.**_

The stars were bright tonight.

When he was trapped inside his palace, barely able to see the sun rise or set, he had never known that the natural world held such wonders. Now, with his back propped up against Bosco, the former Earth King couldn't help but feel his heart racing within his breast at the sight of so many twinkling lights above him.

He had no idea where he was, really. Last place he and Bosco had stopped in for some food was a small hamlet of some sort. It was probably the most depressing place he had been to so far, especially since the town seemed run by thugs instead of proper soldiers.

It was difficult not to speak out, not to declare change when he so obviously had no right to. It was an unusual feeling, being helpless, and it was something that, if given the choice, he would rather do without. But it was also humbling, and horribly thought-provoking. With each step that he made further and further into his former kingdom, he was shocked to find just how thick the cowl that Long Feng had thrown over his eyes had truly been.

In the Palace, he had wanted nothing. He merely had to open his mouth and he would get it. It was only when he was forced to do things on his own did he realise that his silence and utmost ignorance was the price to pay for these things, and it was too much of a price to pay.

Now, alone with Bosco, he had to learn how to do things for himself. It was like being born again, almost literally. He had to learn how to fish, how to take care of himself, how to make sure he had enough sleep. He also had to learn how to take care of Bosco, which, if he were honest, was a lot easier than taking care of himself.

At times it was so frustrating that he almost gave up. There were a few incidences when he just lied on his back, in the wilderness, and shut his eyes, wondering, _how did it come to this? How could I have been so blind and stupid? Is this the price I have to pay to make it right? _

But then Bosco would nudge him out of his stupor and he would keep going, keep moving.

There were times of joy, as well. The freedom of being able to do as he wanted without being chastised. Being able to wake up when he wanted, eat what he chose (within reason)…even sleeping outside was a novelty. The first few weeks were spent like it was a vacation; everything was just that new and exciting to him.

But then, sometimes, he would sober up and see the details for what they were. His lands outside Ba Sing Se were in poverty, his people suffering. The yoke of Fire Nation rule was too tight, and had kept on tightening while he was sitting in his palace getting everything he thought he wanted. Now all he wanted was to get his kingdom back and make it right.

If he ever got his kingdom back, he knew that his first course of action would be to stay afloat. He wouldn't be locked away in his ivory tower ever again. He wouldn't allow himself that kind of luxury, that kind of glorious ignorance, while his people, the very people he was supposed to be protecting, suffered under the heel of the Fire Nation.

But now, under the stars, with his back warmed by Bosco's body heat, comforted by the sleeping bear's snoring and deep breathing, all he could think of now was, _The stars are so bright tonight. _


	10. Inheritance

**Warning: Takes place shortly after **_**The Puppet Master**_** and contains spoilers.**

When with her friends, Katara promised forcefully that she would never, ever use bloodbending. It just wasn't within her to use such a horrific power. To rob someone of their own free will, to capture their own blood with her bending and force them to do her bidding…it was too horrific to even consider, let alone actually plan and plot and fathom.

But alone, curled up, hugging her knees to her chest with her eyes shut, she shuddered. Not just from the horror of the events that she had witnessed, but from its results.

The power that had filled her was intoxicating. The moment she had seized control of Hama, while her heart was stuttering and her guts her clenching in dismay and horror from the reality of what she was doing, her blood, her head, and the source of her bending actually _sang_.

This_ is what it means to be a master, _was what she thought without control. _The ability to rob a person of their very will, to make them your playthings…_this_ is what it means to be the master of your craft…_

And if she admitted it to herself, even though the tears stained her cheeks and she felt like she was going to throw up, she had to admit that it had felt _good_. It felt warm, and triumphant. It felt like she could do _anything_, even at the expense of her victims.

Bloodbending scared her enough with the very concept and idea of it. But what terrified her, really and truly _terrified_ her, was how easy it was, and how good it felt, and worst of all, how good she was at it.

Out of all of the battles that she had faced, and would later face, the hardest one would be the constant one that she would have to fight within herself: the battle to ensure that bloodbending would never, ever be used again.

But she would fail. Grief has no morals, no boundaries. There are no ethics in a broken heart.


	11. Impervious

Smellerbee was the only female within the camp impervious to Jet's charms.

Oh, sure, she was able to be convinced with his charisma, but when it came to actual _attraction _being used to further his gains, it never worked. It baffled any and all of the girls (and some of the guys) in the camp who could never even dream of saying the same.

For the longest time, everyone thought that her ability to ignore his advances was because she preferred women. It wasn't hard to assume that, especially because she dressed and acted more like a boy than some of the boys did.

However, despite her disinterest, Jet seemed to think it was important to persist.

"Smellerbee," Jet cut her off one day, standing a mere inch apart from her. He leaned in close and smiled around his wheat stalk, his dark eyes flashing. "How are you this fine spring day?"

Smellerbee paused, her black eyes going to his impassively. "Feeling the tug of springtime, are we, Jet?" she wondered, her tone bored. Without another word, she slipped past him and grabbed onto one of the zipcords, threading her way through the trees.

Jet watched her go, scratching his head. From behind him, Pipsqueak snorted. "Didn't work out the way you planned, huh, Jet?"

Jet scowled, crossing his arms over his chest. "It's not like that," he protested, but Pipsqueak merely laughed louder.

Later, when Jet managed to catch sight of his elusive new member of his team, it was at lunch. Smellerbee came back wearing a huge grin on her face and holding a heavy bag of goodies. Jet, despite himself and his ego, was rather impressed. He addressed the rest of the team before they started eating.

"Today one of our newest members has returned with one hell of a haul," he announced, his voice clear as a bell. His words were met with happy and excited cheers, and Smellerbee rose to her feet and bowed in a rather silly way, grinning ear-to-ear and blushing a little through her tattoos.

"Congratulations, Smellerbee," he went on, walking over to her side and throwing an arm around her narrow shoulders. Her eyes narrowed, but her grin stayed on place. "What do you plan to do to celebrate?" He leaned in close, his eyes meeting hers right on.

Most girls would have blushed and looked away. Others would have giggled into their hands. Not Smellerbee. Her smile turned cat-like. "I plan to spend the money on nothing but candy," she replied. "And when the candy is gone, I'll go out and get ever more money to buy even more for everyone!"

The last part of the sentence was shouted out, and she threw up her arms and cheered, the other kids joining in with her.

It was then that Jet saw the problem.

Smellerbee was turning out to be a_ rival_. It was even more evident when, late in the night, Jet caught her sitting side-by-side with his number one archer, Longshot.

Jet stared, unable to move or tear his eyes away. _She's usurping my best archer!_

But it was then that he looked a little closer, and saw how..._different_ she looked in front of the silent Longshot. Her hand kept going to her ragged hair, and she kept looking down at her feet. Very much like how the girls looked at _Jet_.

_She isn't_ gay, Jet thought, his mouth open slightly. _She's also not a _rival._ She just doesn't _like me_!_

Jet, being Jet, approached it the way he always did: with little thought and lots of passion. In seconds, he was with them. "Are you trying to poach my archer for whatever it is you want to do on your own?" he demanded.

Smellerbee glared at him, and Longshot blinked slowly, his mouth turned down in a puzzled frown. "So, what, I can't talk to nobody without you getting in my face about it?" she snapped at him.

Jet blinked, a little thrown off by the force of her words. "Well, okay, no, not exactly."

"Then what's the problem? You think I wanna be leader? Are you kidding me?" she stared at him, her face completely cloaked in disbelief. "I can't handle these kids like you can!"

Longshot nodded slowly. He quite obviously agreed with this.

Jet knew she was right, and also knew that she was being serious, but still. _Still._ It bothered him to see the naked dislike in her eyes when she looked at him. He certainly didn't think he deserved it, especially since he had agreed to let her stay. _What is her problem?_

Longshot caught his eye. With a slow blink, he moved his eyes from Smellerbee, back to Jet, then to the left, away from them both. Then he blinked again slowly. Jet nodded. Wordlessly, Longshot turned to Smellerbee, gave her a small smile, then turned and walked away. Smellerbee opened her mouth to protest, but Jet stepped in closer, cutting her off.

"Let's get it out in the open, shall we?" Jet said, his voice hard. "Why don't you like me?"

Smellerbee stared at him, her eyes flicking to the side for a moment before she spoke. "Who says I don't like you?" she echoed.

"You did, right there, with that lie," he answered. Smellerbee looked away, her cheeks pink with embarrassment, but he didn't let her off. "Why don't you like me, Smellerbee? Haven't I been nice to you?"

"Yes," she muttered, sounding like a berated child. It was his first hint.

"Then what's wrong with you?" he went on, leaning in close. She met his gaze with her own, her eyes unfaltering, but that was her only reaction. "Why don't you like me?"

"Why does it matter?" she finally answered. "You have hoards of people who like you already. Leave me alone." She started to brush past him, but he grabbed her shoulder and dragged her back, sparking fury in her black eyes. For some reason, seeing a reaction pleased him. "Are you looking to get sliced?" she finished.

Jet smirked. "No," he replied. "But I doubt that you could even land a cut on me."

She leaned in close, her face inches from his. Her smile was once again catlike. "Wanna find out?"

"You see?" Jet answered, leaning back and throwing up his hands. "Right there. You start making it sound like a game, but it's so obvious that you hate me. What did I do?"

Smellerbee blew her bangs out of her face. "What did you do?" she echoed.

"Yes!"

"Fine!" Smellerbee took a step back, her arms crossed. "Whenever someone fails to fall at your feet, you start...you start to _stalk_ them, start to _pressure_ them into liking you. You use that charm and smooth words to win them over, but I can see right through that shit because it's the same kind that my asshole family tried to pull on _me_." Her eyes narrowed. "And, in case you forgot, these are the same people that _ruined me._"

Jet stopped, his heart stuttering a little at the mention of that. There had been rumours that, before she had run away to join them, Smellerbee had been brutally abused by her family and, as his comrades put it, "forced to live a lie". He had never learned what that meant, exactly, but the amount of hurt and hatred in her eyes at even alluding to it gave him a pretty good hint.

"And then when people don't kowtow to you at every spare moment," she went on, "you go out of your way to remind them of how _generous_ you are to let them stay here, when really, _this is a team effort, Jet._"

Jet was stunned. He felt, for the first time in a long time, really and truly humbled, and actually ashamed. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. He honestly had nothing to say that could defend himself without proving some part of what she was saying as true.

"So no, I guess I don't like you for those reasons," she finished, her voice as sharp as her knives. "So can we drop it and move on? I'm still gonna do my part. I'm still gonna follow your orders. But I _don't_ have to _like_ you." And with those words, she pushed past him roughly, stomping away from him as fast as she could without running.

Jet stared. He just...couldn't believe what she just said.

_Did she just accuse me of being like a _parent?!

It gnawed away at him for days, despite the fact that it was never brought up again. Smellerbee was true to her word and was incredibly useful and priceless on their missions, but she never warmed up to him like the others did and she never seemed to so much as notice him beyond the realms of the mission at hand.

Finally, one night, when the younger kids were sleeping and Pipsqueak and Sneers broke out the pilfered whiskey (a late night tradition at least once a week for the older kids), Jet grabbed two mugs and cornered Smellerbee far away from the others. He thrust one mug out to her, not saying a word.

Smellerbee frowned at him, then took it, sniffing it a little. She winced. "Strong," she admitted.

Jet smirked, leaning back against the nearest tree and sipping his own mug. It took every ounce of willpower not to wince himself. "Fire Nation likes to keep their soldiers happy," he replied.

To his surprise, Smellerbee smirked back, raising an eyebrow. "Having a burning chest is happy?" she wondered.

Jet laughed softly. "Anything with suffering makes those bastards happy," he replied.

Smellerbee sat down, holding her mug between her hands. When Jet didn't move, to his surprise, she waved him down to sit next to her. Wordlessly, he sipped again, his eyes on her. She wasn't looking at him. Her eyes were fixed on her mug.

"How'd it happen for you?" she wondered softly.

Jet sighed, looking away. "I was eight. They burned my village to the ground. Laughed while they did it. I barely made it, but I _did_ get away, much to their chagrin."

Smellerbee nodded.

"And you?"

She looked up, her eyes sombre. "You know I ran away," she replied.

"But why fight the Fire Nation, then?" Jet wondered. "You hate them just as much as I do."

Smellerbee swallowed hard, obviously taken aback by the question. She took a sip of the whiskey before replying. "They took us over more subtly," she admitted. "They took over my town, practically brainwashed my parents into mindless slaves of the Fire Lord." She narrowed her eyes. "They didn't fight back. They _wouldn't._ When others would try, they looked away. They wouldn't help. They were _cowards._" She spat out the word. "And they tried to make me the same way. I couldn't live that way. So I ran."

Jet was silent, unsure of how to respond. It was the longest that she had even spoken in front of him, and it was definitely the most intimate.

Finally, he found the words. "You did the right thing, Smellerbee. If they were making you into something you're not, you had to leave. You can't live a lie."

She smiled faintly. "Honestly, I wasn't expecting you to say that," she replied. "I thought you would say that _I_ was the coward for running."

Jet met her gaze. "But you're out here, actually fighting back. They're in their ivory tower, ignoring the pain and the suffering, getting fat off of the Fire Nation's skewed idea of 'kindness'." He shook his head. "It's not the same thing."

Smellerbee stared at him, her face an expression that he couldn't really read. "You know, Jet?" she said finally, her voice soft. "Perhaps you're not such a dick after all."

Despite everything, Jet barked out a startled laugh. "I was a dick?"

Smellerbee grinned. "Yep." She held out the mug and got to her feet. "This stuff is shit," she replied flatly. "Bring me something better next time, okay?"

She walked away, waving as she went. Jet watched her go, his eyes wide, unable to tear his gaze away. He took a huge gulp of the whiskey, then coughed and spluttered as it burned his throat. He set both mugs down, rubbing his chest gingerly.

_Something better next time,_ he agreed, smiling his own catlike grin.


	12. A Special Dinner

**Takes place six months post-series and contains spoilers.**

Mai and Iroh, during the whole duration of it, avoided each other's eyes. It was simply too easy to burst out laughing if they shared a look, too hard to insult Zuko and possibly hurt his feelings without meaning to.

But, oh, it was hard not to laugh, even when they didn't look at each other. They sat, across from one another, in the small dining area of the Jasmine Dragon, listening to Zuko curse and crash and occasionally - and this was where it was the hardest to swallow the giggles - _firebend_.

The fact that Zuko was even in any kind of kitchen was like something out of a fantasy story, but Zuko had insisted, declaring that since it was the first year anniversary of the teashop's opening, he _had_ to do something special. And apparently that something special was _cooking something that sounded like he was murdering someone_.

Iroh's shoulders were shaking, and his fist was stuffed into his mouth. Mai's eyes were watering, both from the suppressed laughter, and the horrible stench that was wafting from the tiny kitchen.

With a final curse, Zuko emerged, covered in Agni-knew-what and holding two plates full of what looked like something Tom-Tom had already eaten. But Zuko looked so proud, and his eyes were so bright, and he wore that dorky, silly smile that both Mai and Iroh could never even _dream_ of saying no to, and...

He set the plates in front of them, practically beaming with pride. He stood in front of them, his hands behind his back, staring at them both. Waiting...waiting...

Gingerly, Mai picked up her chopsticks. Iroh did the same. Finally, their eyes met, and with a silent countdown to three, together, they took the first bite.

And gagged.

Iroh made a long, groaning noise, clutching at his throat. Mai covered her mouth and lowered her head, her whole body shaking, trying to keep the food down.

Zuko went bright red, the smile dying from his lips.

With a shout of, _"Dammit, forget it!"_, he grabbed up the plates, opened the window, and _actually threw_ the plates out of the window. Both crashed into the ground, food and all, and shattered, leaving a horrible, grey-coloured mess.

It sat there for days, never rotting, never devoured. No living thing would touch it.


	13. Bathing Duty

**Takes place during Book Two: Earth, shortly after "Bitter Work".**

Bathing duty. Again.

Sokka sighed, listening to the sounds of happy laughing broken by the occasional sounds of splashing or crumbling. In one hand, he held a branch topped with the softest leaves he could find. In the other hand, he held some soap, stuff he managed to grab up in bulk at the last town.

_It's like I just knew this would happen,_ he thought darkly.

Before him, submerged halfway into the water and blowing bubbles, was Appa, looking mildly unimpressed as Sokka stood before him on the shore in nothing but his swimming trunks. "Listen," he began, slowly edging his way into the cold, cold, cold water. "We're going to do this fast, okay? I'm tired, and you're probably tired, and I would rather not be doing this."

Appa gave a bubbly groan, narrowing his eyes a little. Sokka decided to ignore it, or else take it as a good sign. He approached Appa slowly, hoping that today would be a good day and the sky bison _wouldn't_ feel like soaking him head-to-foot like he always did.

"First foot out, please," Sokka muttered. Appa made another noise, almost like a snort, before holding out a massive paw from the water. Sokka would have bet money that Appa was _laughing_ at him.

He was about to start scrubbing between the first two toes when something grey and white fell from the sky, shrieking. Before Sokka could even process what it was, small and furry hands were yanking on his wolftail so hard that he yelped out before he could even pull away. He dropped the soap and branch and started screaming, trying to throw Momo off his head because of _course_ it was the lemur and of _course_ it would be now, at this moment, while he's trying to bathe Appa.

Finally, somehow, Sokka managed to prise the little furry bastard off of his head. He stumbled from the momentum, tripped over his branch, and fell ass-over-teakettle into the water, soaked instantly to the bone.

Feeling as if there was a black cloud over his head, he pulled his now-loose and sopping wet hair from his eyes and looked in front of him.

Momo had snatched up the branch and soap, and was _bathing Appa himself_. And Appa seemed to _enjoy it._

Sokka's palm went to his face. The wet sound of it echoed through the entire enclave.


	14. Birthday

**Takes place post-series.**

"You. Are the greatest girlfriend. _Ever_."

Suki grinned. "Happy birthday. Now get out of my sight."

Sokka threw his arms around her and hugged so violently that she staggered a little, but the moment her hands were up to retaliate he was gone, a streak of blue and white and all enthusiasm.

It wasn't really that hard to figure out what Sokka wanted for his birthday. He was the kind of guy who didn't like just any one thing - no, it had to have some kind of _history_ to it. Suki knew that no matter what she tried to give him, it wouldn't be _history-ey_ enough, so she dragged him onto the ferry to Ba Sing Se, and, well, here they were.

The store itself was mostly weapons, but it boasted a great deal of knicknacks and trinkets as well. Suki suspected that Sokka wasn't the only one within the city with an obsessive love for shiny junk. It was endearing, in a dorky sort of way.

Suddenly, Sokka reappeared from wherever he had submerged, his arms full of what looked like sequined pillows. "These would be great for your room!" he gushed. "They're shiny, and girly, and fluffy!"

Suki raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure you don't mean _your_ room?" she wondered.

Sokka, however, wasn't deterred. He tried to push them towards her. "Take them, I want them! You said _anything!_"

Suki sighed, rolled her eyes, and held out her arms. She _had_ said anything. "But, Sokka," she protested, as he made a happy noise and shoved them into her arms. "They're kinda...I dunno..._ugly?_"

Sokka shook his head, waving a finger at her. "Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, my love!" he replied, which, to her, explained nothing. "Oh! Oh! Look! _Seal-turtle statues!_"

And he was gone once again.

It took an hour for Sokka to be shopped out. He and Suki left with at least nine bags between them and Suki's coinpurse seriously emaciated. She didn't even remember half of what he had shoved at her, only that he just "had to have it".

But then, as she looked over at how happy he was, how he chattered non-stop about his new purchases, and how he kept thanking her over and over again, she realised that it was so worth it.

Even though her boyfriend was a huge dork.

She just hoped, really hoped, that she could find some way to get rid of this crap from her house. Because otherwise, she was shipping him back to the South Pole.


	15. Comfort from Nightmares

**Takes place during Book Three: Fire, shortly after "Nightmares and Daydreams".**

Even deep within the worst of nightmares, Aang could always count on the kindness of friends to pull him through.

It was mere hours before the sun would rise and the invasion would start. Although Aang had finally managed to sink into a much-needed, coma-like sleep, his fears still alive and crystal clear in the realm of subconscious.

His friends, even those who were light sleepers, were unaware of Aang's sudden midnight distress. They, themselves, were swept under the oceans of their own exhaustion, and thus were oblivious to the sudden sounds of sleepy distress from Aang's impromptu bed of fluff.

Momo, who was the lightest sleeper of the bunch, awakened to the first couple of sounds, having been curled up on top of Appa's head in a nap of his own. With a worried chitter, he got to his feet and listened, only to hear even more sounds of distress.

Under his feet, Appa uttered a low, breathy groan. Clearly, he had been awakened, too. With a responding chortle, Momo leapt up and was airborne, easily catching a sea-scented gust under his wings. With an easy glide, he soared over to his human, who was curled up in a tight ball and trembling, his fingers buried deep in sheepswool. With a deep, calming purr, Momo curled up right under his chin, uttering comforting noises deep from his chest.

Taking his time, Appa reached them a few moments later, uttering a breathy noise before curling up on Aang's other side, his head resting on the fluffy bed of wool, his body remaining on the ground beside it.

Almost instantly, surrounded by familiar warmth, Aang relaxed. His arms went around the lemur under his chin, and he scooted backwards towards Appa's immense warmth. He never once woke up, but he visibly relaxed.

His nightmares were chased away by the very animal guides who had claimed him as their human.


	16. Housewarming

**Occurs post-series and contains spoilers.**

"Mai!" Ty Lee seemed to burst out from nowhere, a streak of bright make-up and green clothes. Her body slammed into Mai's as she stepped gingerly off of the palanquin, barely able to set both feet on the sand before being assaulted. "You came!"

Mai shrugged, but she hugged back tightly, smiling. "Of course I did; you asked me to, genius."

"Ty Lee, quit putting your hands all over Mai," Zuko's voice snapped out as he edged his way out of the palanquin, his face red. Mai had to bite back a caustic laugh: only Zuko could manage to look embarrassed, miserable, and excited all at once.

"Of course," Ty Lee grinned, releasing Mai and throwing herself at the Fire Lord, squeezing him just as hard - if not harder - as she had Mai. Zuko went scarlet, mumbling a little and patting Ty Lee on the back awkwardly before squirming away.

Ty Lee smiled, her hands behind her back. She looked quite at home in her Kyoshi uniform, and even seemed to blend in to her surroundings. If Mai hadn't grown up with her, she would have sworn that Ty Lee had been raised as a Kyoshi girl. "Thank you so much for coming!" she gushed, smiling so hard her eyes were almost crescents. "It really means alot to me to have friends to celebrate this with me."

"Has it really been a year?" Mai wondered, looking around idly. Zuko walked over to her and put his arm around her, which made her smirk: sometimes the guy was as transparent as glass. "Almost," he replied, his voice a trace wistful.

"It's been a year for me!" Ty Lee broke in, throwing her hands up in the air. "The other girls and I met in prison a whole year ago today! Isn't it amazing?"

Mai smiled. "Of course it is."

"It is?" Zuko wondered, earning him an elbow in the ribs.

Ty Lee grabbed Mai's hand and dragged her forward, breaking her away from Zuko. "Come on, I have to show you everything!" she declared. The two broke into a run, Mai breathing out a laugh as they did so. "You won't believe the kind of things they do to celebrate! There's usually a bonfire, and lots of different kinds of food on sticks! They had an anniversary for one of the other girls just last month, and that's what they had, and I hope they have more, because I miss food on sticks! They had so much of it at the circus!"

"Ugh," Mai muttered, slightly out of breath from being dragged along. "At least tell me they have civilised festival food, like those found in paper bags."

Ty Lee laughed like she had told a joke, but she wasn't. "Oh, Mai, you and your obsession with food in bags."

"Obsession?" Mai echoed, but Ty Lee merely tugged on her harder and her question was never answered.

"Hey, wait for me!" Zuko called, sounding like a kid again. He shortly followed, but had no chance of catching up: That much, in all of the years that the three had known each other, would never, ever change.


	17. Reason to Fight

They came overnight, like a slow infestation of antroaches, intent on snatching up any crumb of value for themselves. It was as if life was normal one day, and then the next, everything had changed and no one seemed to even notice or realise it had happened.

No one except Smellerbee.

Except she wasn't Smellerbee yet. She was Mikko. She was younger. And she was weak.

They wore smiles, those men and women in red. Oily, greasy smiles, the kind that stay on your skin long after you stop seeing them, the kind that you can never wash away, never forget.

Mikko couldn't believe it. She couldn't understand it.

Her town was small, yes. It was modest, and quiet, and didn't have much in terms of wealth. But it was still one of the last free towns within the Earth Kingdom, one of the last that still only traded with other, non-colonised, villages and towns.

Until those men and women came.

And then, quite suddenly, her parents started wearing the same smiles. The darkness in them spread, throughout the whole village, so that anywhere Mikko ran, anyone she tried to talk to, she was surrounded by oil and fire and fake, fake, fake.

When she tried to protest, her words are silenced. She was urged to conform, to convert. _For the good of the nation, Mikko, you must do this. You must put aside foolishness and realise that this is the only way_.

Bow to them.

Do anything for them.

Surrender.

_Be weak._

It was the one thing Mikko could never do. They tried to make her, there was no doubting that. They forced her to attend dinners, shoved their lies down her throat and made her lizardparrot them to the men and women to make them look good, and they even dressed her in clothes styled after their nation, not her own.

They were her _parents_. They were supposed to _know better_.

It was when the words began to clog in her throat and mouth like ashes that she knew she couldn't, shouldn't, _wouldn't_ do this anymore. It was when she realised that she was slowly dying inside, slowly being burned alive from the inside out with the fires of their lies and facades that she realised, _This isn't me._

And the moment she realised this, she tore the dress off, spit on the ground at her parents' feet, and declared herself an orphan. She turned, grabbed up her mother's kitchen knives, and ran. She ran, and ran, and ran, as far as she could, as far as she was able to, until she could no longer feel the oil on her skin, the fire in her body.


	18. Sokka and the Case of the Vanishing Meat

It wasn't quite as awesome as the hat he had found in Chin, but it was still a sweet piece of material and he wouldn't trade it for the world. Too bad Toph didn't seem to like hers.

"Is...is this a _monocle_ I feel hanging from the front, Sokka?"

Sokka snatched the hat back, took the monocle off, then jammed it back onto her head. "Come on, Toph, _focus!_" he answered, waving his arms around. The streets of the small fishing town were quiet..._too quiet_, Sokka thought. "Someone ate the last of my jerky and since I _know_ it wasn't you or Suki it has to be someone here?"

Toph poked at the hat on her head a little. "Why would anyone care about your stupid dried meat?" she wondered.

"Because it's _awesome_!" he answered. "Everyone knows that Water Tribe jerky is the best in the entire world! Of _course_ they would take it from me!"

"Where _is_ Suki, anyway?" Toph wondered.

"Away," Sokka answered evasively, not wanting to reveal that Suki had declared him insane and threatened to leave him behind if he kept harrassing her to join him. "Now, think: if you were a meat-stealing jerk who had Water Tribe envy, where would you go?"

Toph considered, rubbing her chin a little. "I would go into a mental hospital, because that jerky tastes like shit."

Sokka reached over and tugged the hat downwards, hard, on her head. She yelped, then slammed a foot down on the ground, forcing up a small pillar of rock to catch him at the ankle. He shouted, jerking back and clutching at his foot, hopping around gingerly. She laughed. "Serves you right!"

"Toooooooooooph," Sokka whined, and she winced; he was using that tone of voice that they both knew she could never deny.

"_Fine,_" she snapped. "We stayed at an inn last night. Why don't we retrace our steps and ask a few questions?"

"Brilliant!" Sokka dropped his foot and threw his arms around her, hugging hard. "Let's go!" He grabbed her hand and dragged her away.

At the inn, the innkeeper was watching from behind the front desk as the two kids in the bizarre hats peered around, searching for something.

"Uh," he said, awkwardly. "Can I help you with something?"

Sokka was in his face in an instant, adjusting his monocle in order to get a better look at the innkeeper. "I dunno..._can_ you?"

"I don't know, that's why I'm asking _you_."

Sokka raised an eyebrow. "Have you any idea of the whereabouts of a small blue pouch that was last seen in my room here at this establishment?"

"One that smelled like his feet?" Toph added helpfully.

The innkeeper shook his head. "I haven't seen anything like that. Did you ask the housekeeper?"

Toph blinked, slowly sliding her foot over the floor and raising a hand. She concentrated, then nodded. "The housekeeper is up in the rooms. Shall we?"

Sokka nodded, eyeing the innkeeper warily. He wasn't quite sure he bought the story, but he hadn't smelt anything on his breath, so it was still possible.

By the time Sokka had met up with Toph, she had already cornered the housekeeper, a young man who looked like he was about to pass out in fear. And with good reason; Toph had her arms up and was about to earthbend.

"Toph, you're _doing it wrong_!" Sokka hissed, pulling her away. "You're supposed to _ask the questions with smooth words and even smoother attitude!_ Haven't I taught you anything?"

Toph lowered her arms. "Your way is boring," she answered. "By the way, he doesn't know, either, but there was a maid who was in our room before we left."

Sokka nodded. "And do you know where she is?" he wondered slowly, his eyes narrowed and fixed on the young man, who broke out in a sweat.

"She also works at the other inn across the down. The Scarlet Serpent-Squirrel."

It was quite the walk, but once they made it, Sokka was starting to get excited. "This has to be it," he declared. "It's _always_ the third person you ask, _always_."

"But the third person you asked was the innkeeper, after me and Suki," Toph said.

"_Outside_ of people I know!" Sokka added.

Within the second inn, it was harder to locate the elusive maid, since Toph had never met her and the housekeeper didn't seem to know her name. After some asking around (which Sokka delighted in), they finally found the maid.

"Oh, it's the Water Tribe man and one of his girls," she said, her face impassive. "You guys sure are messy. I hope you check out of there soon."

Toph wrinkled her nose. "'One of his girls'?" she echoed, not quite believing what she was hearing.

Sokka went pink but pushed onward. "Save it! We know you took it! Confess!"

The maid stared. "Took what?"

"The last of my jerky!" Sokka answered. "You took the last piece! The housekeeper saw you in our room!"

The maid looked blankly at him, then her eyes focused a second later. "Wait, that weird blue bag that smells like feet?"

Toph laughed. "Yep, that's the one."

Sokka pointed his finger under her nose. "Ah-_hah_! So you admit it!"

"No, I don't. But I do remember that someone was in the room when I was dusting, and that person was eating from that bag."

"Do you remember who it was?" Toph wondered.

"I do, and...well..."

Sokka stood before the culprit, hands on his hips, his eyes blazing with fury (one of them was enlarged behind the monocle). Beside him, Toph was also standing with her hands on her hips, but she was so obviously amused.

_"How could you?!"_ Sokka demanded. _"What do you have to say for yourself?!"_

Suki shrugged, holding out the empty bag to him. "I like chewy things," she replied with a grin.


	19. Brothers and Sisters

_Writer's Note: I'm not quite sure what this is. I started writing this as a fic about Mai and Tom-Tom, but then somehow it spiralled into a longer fic about sibling relationships...and, yeah. Here it is. I don't know what it is either. Uh, so, enjoy or something?_

**Warning: Contains spoilers for the whole series.**

**Mai and Tom-Tom**

The very first conversation that Mai had with Tom-Tom wasn't exactly one for the history books.

"Mai, why is Big Brother Zu's eye so yucky?" he asked her, his small face so sombre that it was almost – almost – an effort to say what she said next.

She leaned in, stared him right in the eyes, and said, "Because you don't eat your vegetables."

For a whole week, Tom-Tom shovelled in every single vegetable that was put on his plate, not once complaining about it. Every single time Mai visited with Zuko, Tom-Tom would stare at the Fire Lord avidly, checking for some sign of improvement. When the week passed and Zuko's face showed no change at all, he knew he'd been had, and made a scene about it in front of everyone.

Mai was still amused by this, even though Zuko wasn't. Maybe that was what made it much more amusing than it should have been.

And yet, despite this first trick, no matter how many times Mai continued to fool him this way, he still took everything she said as the truth. Because often, when she was being sincere, it was about the right things, and the best things.

**Zuko and Azula**

Even though seeing her filled him bitterness and sorrow, Zuko made sure to see Azula within the asylum at least once a week. He always made time for her, no matter how busy the week became, no matter how many meetings there were. He always made time for his sister.

Because even though she had been cruel, cunning, and vindictive with him, and even though they both had faced each other that fateful day ready to take the other's life, she was still his one and only sister. She had done a great deal of harmful and hateful things in her past, but so had he. Who was he to fault her for the stain on his own past?

Some days were terrible. The moment he walked into the room to see her, despite being dressed in civvies, Azula would start taunting him, her voice so loud and furious that it seared him deep inside. He tried to calm her down, tried to reassure her, but nothing would get through to her.

The good days, the days that gave him hope, were the days that she was calm, almost eerily so. She teased him, but like she used to, when they were kids. Granted, their childhood wasn't exactly the best to reminisce about, but it was still better than facing the hurricane of her rage.

No matter what, he never gave up on her. Every week, he was there.

Because she was his sister, and that's what brothers did.

**Katara and Sokka**

The two had always been close; being raised during wartime in near-poverty made it easy. There were always fights, always tussles, and many silent treatments and score-keeping. But even before they had found Aang in the iceberg, Sokka and Katara could always count on each other.

It was only until the war was over that they both learned how to live by themselves. Their lives weren't as connected anymore; it wasn't as necessary to stay together. Katara learned to be both a skilled healer and a just and honest soldier. Sokka was both a scholar and a hunter, as well as the first and only honourary male Kyoshi Warrior. Their lives were so different that it was hard to keep in touch, hard to ensure that the other knew everything there was to know.

_You're still okay, right? _ Katara wondered in one of her letters. _You're not doing anything stupid, are you? Like always?_

_I'm okay, _Sokka replied back, using Hawky. _And the second question pretty much doesn't make any sense. You _do _know who you're writing to, right?_

Katara knew who she was writing to, especially since the letter was slightly charred around the edges. She sent him a scathing, scolding letter back.

Even apart, even with separate lives, their patterns would always stay the same. It made the distance smaller.

**Ty Lee and her Sisters**

It wasn't easy seeing your face on six other girls that were not yourself, but even though some small part of her wondered how, Ty Lee found that she was so used to it that it was normal. If the faces surrounding her didn't match her own, she knew she wasn't at home.

Each girl had a separate personality, despite the shared features. Each sister ensured that their differences were known, altering their features to match their insides.

One was quiet, introverted, and a lover of great tomes and very shy, prone to haunting corners and under tables.

One was loud, crass, and eccentric. She coloured her shockingly short hair with dyes from flowers, different shades every day, her clothes artfully torn and dyed just as brightly as her hair. From her fingers, masterpieces arose, starting as wet dirt.

One was motherly, attentive, and prone to herding her other sisters. Her arms were always open, her shoulder the softest place to cry on, her voice the most musical of songs.

One was always underfoot, eager to please, eager to be of use, and yet always she ended up in the way, learning very little and helping very rarely. She also had a naked innocence to her, one that kept her sisters fiercely protective of her, one that ensured patience.

One was always on the run, her legs always stretched in a dash, her arms thrown up and out, her fingers threaded through the wind. The outdoors were her passion, the roads her outlet.

One was a shadow, aways following the others randomly, always trying to copy one sister one month, another sister another month. No one was sure how she would turn out, or if she would have her own identity at all.

And the last was limber, flexible, and strong. Her eyes were sharp, keen on the details and even keener on auras, and she dreamed small, but those dreams were hers.

Together, despite their differences, there was always love. With them, life was always a game.

**Toph and Aang**

Though not born siblings, and certainly not raised together, both considered the other a kind of adoptive sibling of sorts. Since they met, it had always been a kind of game; Toph would always be on the offence, and Aang was always eager to please and make amends.

As they grew older, they grew together, like real siblings. Toph would always make time to be with Aang for as long as he was able, his Avatar duties making these times short at best.

Conversations came easy for the two. Both shared a somewhat solitary childhood, one that they could both bond over. Despite being surrounded by dozens of boys his age, Aang had never really made a true friend, especially after he became an Airbending Master and learned he was the Avatar.

Toph, being raised in seclusion, had never had a real friend, either, as she was kept away from children her own age, her parents deeply afraid that the innate cruelty of children would severely damage the already delicate nature that they thought she had. Despite their shaky start, they had always seen something of themselves in the other, which made them, in a sense, spiritual siblings.

**Iroh and Ozai**

Both shared a past riddled with common memories and common faces. Both grew up with the same people surrounding them. The only difference was that Iroh started twenty years over his younger brother.

Azulon and Ilah had married young. Iroh was the son that was the duty of all royal rulers within the Fire Nation.

Ozai was the son that came from passion, from careless abandon. He was never meant to be. He had always known this.

Iroh tried to love his brother like any brother would, but it wasn't just the age difference that kept the apart.

Iroh was the first-born, the cherished child, the one destined for the throne of fire. Ozai was the back-up, the secondary child, the one that would remain in the shadows, the one that would only taste glory as already overseen leftovers.

Ozai knew this. Despite it being outside of either of their control, he could never forgive Iroh for this, for being born first, for being the one to rule.

Iroh loved his brother. But Ozai could never love him. It was just something that could never, ever be done.

**Roku and Sozin**

Being born on the same day, of the noblest and most prestigious bloodlines, was certainly something that could not be thought of as "coincidence". Roku was born in the afternoon. Sozin was born in the earliest pre-dawn hours.

It was pretty obvious early on that while they were practically opposites in most ways, they were still able to get along in those first sixteen years of real friendship. The arguments were heated, the debates passionate, and the fights were brutal, but always things came through, and always they remembered how much the other meant, deep down.

Through it all, Roku truly believed that Sozin would understand his way of seeing things. He really thought that, despite their differences, the debate, the argument, the fight in this would be just as fierce and harsh, but in the end it would be repaired just like all of the rest, because they were brothers, if not by blood, but by affection.

Roku didn't realise that by challenging Sozin in this one true ambition, he was challenging his own loyalty to his dear friend. In a way, by winning the fight and humiliating Sozin the way he did, with his own bending, he had destroyed the brotherhood they had had since birth.

Essentially, he had broken Sozin's heart.

To his dying breath, Roku would regret it. After death, he would never forget both the hatred and the agony that held hands within his brother's eyes as he was left to die.


	20. A Thin Line

**Warning: Contains heavy spoilers for Sozin's Comet.**

She knew she was going crazy. She knew it. The problem was that she also knew that there was no way out.

Perhaps maybe one way. The moment her father stated that she was going to be Fire Lord, the voices in her head, the ones that screamed for revenge and slaughter, were suddenly held silent in awe and rapture by the proclamation. Her ambition, her entire life's desire, was made for this moment.

Was this not why she worked so hard in the end for her father, despite the people she hurt, the lives she ended, the families she crushed?

Was this not why she was able to forget about having friends, relationships, and any kind of normal life, if it meant feeling at least a shred of her father's light upon her face?

_Fire Lord. Fire Lord Azula. In this Nation, you are King. In his eyes, you are his success._

The words were somewhat marred by his announcement that he was to be Phoenix King. _It makes your place defunct, useless. You are merely a poster child, a figurehead, someone to keep the seat warm while he rules over you, over everyone—_

But she brushed the words away. She had to. It was the only way to keep herself afloat, to keep going on.

And for a while, it was enough. It got rough when it became obvious that her handmaidens were a bunch of traitors – _probably working for Zuko or Uncle_ – and the Dai Li agents thought that she was expendable, but to her it was merely a valuable lesson: When you rule, there is no one to trust but yourself. If you cannot do it yourself, you are not meant to rule.

But then, the moment she cut her hair, her mother cut in, and _ruined everything._

_That's right, she always loved my hair. She would be upset to see me ruin it. _

_She's _nothing. _She thought you were a _monster, _her only daughter, and she had already seen you as a hopeless case before running away to save precious Zuzu. If it had been _you,_ she would have left you to rot._

_I know this._

_Then why do you think of her now, the moment you're going to finally get what you have worked so hard for?_

_I don't know this._

_Then focus, and forget her. You are Fire Lord. You don't need anyone._

_I don't need anyone..._

And she didn't. Everyone who displeased her in any way was forced to leave. She would have gotten rid of everyone and become the ruler of ghosts, except that she still needed a few of them to crown her, and thus they were spared.

_After, _she thought, glaring into their eyes and finding satisfaction in the fear she saw there.

When she knelt on the platform, the thoughts in her mind were focused, clearer than they had been in months. She knew that the moment the hairpiece was settled into her topknot, they would cease, and she would be able to think without that damning haze around her eyes once again. She would be able to enslave her emotions like before, and not be a slave _to_ them.

And the voices held their silence, all the while, until the Sage holding the hairpiece hesitated, and the sound of an all-familiar voice brought her back into that personal, consuming hell, three-fold.

_Zuko,_ they grated.

It wasn't _fair!_ While Zuko was out playing skipper to Iroh, it was Azula who had to stay home and work twice as hard for her father's approval and love. While Zuko was fleeing from her clutches and encased in laziness, it was Azula who was out there, in the brink, fighting for her life. And while Zuko was enjoying the luxury of it all, of a life that _she_ had earned _for_ him, it was Azula who still kept her eyes and ears open for more, so much more...

All she could see was her brother before her. All she could see was him outlined with the red of her rage, feel her head pound with the outrage of her insanity.

Oh, she wanted to kill him. She wanted to kill him so badly. If he were dead, there would be nothing in the way. She would be Fire Lord, the Avatar would be dead, and finally, _finally, _the voices would cease.

And just like in the Earth Kingdom, Azula used Zuko's need for defending the people he cared about against him. She targeted the peasant at his side, and he fell for it, _but he didn't die._ It was close, but he was taking his time getting it over with, and the peasant was trying to save him.

_Kill her, too. Kill them both. Kill everyone who stands in your way._

Something in her balked. If she killed Zuko, wouldn't everything be okay? She wouldn't have to kill the peasant...would she?

But then the peasant started _fighting her, _and the voices were _outraged, _and there was no other way but to fight, to keep the other girl away from Zuko as he lay dying, to make sure that he _stayed_ that way, because it was the _only way to silence the torment..._

But it didn't end up that way. And the moment she felt the chains around her wrists, she felt the chains around her heart and mind as well, and she knew, _she knew, _she had just lost _everything._

She could have screamed so loud, enough to shake the world, and she wouldn't hear it. She could have burned the entire planet to ashes, but she wouldn't feel it. All she could hear was her own rage, and all she could feel was her own defeat.

In the end, she lay down her head, and sobbed, a little girl lost.


	21. The Ones Before

_Air_

Before Yangchen learned she was the Avatar, her life was that of predictability. She would live as a nun in the Western Air Temple, spending her days studying the ancient texts of her people and meditating on them, following each rule to a tee and spreading loving-kindness and compassion amongst her fellow nuns and monks. She would travel like any other nomad, learning only the surfaces of other cultures, while trying to bring other people into her cloister.

When she learned she was the Avatar, on her sixteenth birthday, her mind suddenly opened with the possibility of a completely new life. Suddenly her life was no longer set in stone. Suddenly her life was a maze of opportunity and adventure. She could do_ anything_ now, without the yokes of her background holding her back.

And as she travelled and learned the elements, she realised that while her culture had alot of it right, certainly it wasn't for everyone. She learned early that to be a good Avatar, she had to lift the cowl of her own learning and open her mind to a myriad of possibilities. She had to train herself in the views of others, ensure she understood them and learned from them, in order to be able to work _with_ them and maintain the balance of peace.

_Water_

For Kuruk, death wasn't the end. He had squandered his life needlessly before he met his wife, and the time he had spent with her was fleeting and much, much too short.

When the current Avatar told him where to find Koh, he barely spent a second of time before he was running in that direction, his heart racing. _Finally,_ he was going to get his revenge. _Finally,_ he was going to set her free.

The fight itself was more challenging than anything he had ever faced alive. To keep passive and apathetic while Koh taunted him with the face of Ummi was hard, and it was with staggering desperation that he kept his calm.

No one had ever bested Koh and freed a face stolen by him before that day. No one could figure out _how._ But that day, in his full war gear, wielding nothing but a simple whalebone staff and a heavy heart, he did it.

It was out of frustration, he later admitted to himself. It was with a cry of rage and fury that he swung the spear towards Koh's – and Ummi's – face, and somehow managed to slice it free, in one piece and completely whole.

It fell – and his heart went with it – with a spurt of blood and a scream of Koh's rage, but before it touched the ground, it burst ablaze with white light, slowly taking form of a woman.

His Ummi.

Amidst the screams and cries of Koh's fury, they embraced. Taking her hand, Kuruk led Ummi out of Koh's lair, never once looking back.

In the end, it was another beginning.

_Earth_

Kyoshi was not beautiful. She was, perhaps, the plainest girl in her entire village, almost to the point of ugliness. Her skin was oily and pale, her eyes were muddy brown, and her hair was heavy and staticky. She was tall, taller than any other girl around, and taller than most of the boys. She was muscular, broad-shouldered, and heavy-footed.

But she was the Avatar. That much was undeniable.

Except she, herself, couldn't believe it. Of all of the people in her village, in her year, it was _she_ who was the Avatar? It was hard enough accepting that she was an earthbending prodigy, but the _Avatar_? She, who was nothing short of a freak of nature that one could pitch a tent around and charge admission to see?

At first, it was hard to accept.

_At first._

But gradually, suddenly, her heart felt warm within her breast.

She _was _the Avatar.

The first thing she did on her pilgrimage was walk into a women's cosmetic store. A few of the women tittered at her, knowing that in her case she would need alot of make-up to look presentable, but she let it flow off of her back. She asked for facepaints, like the kind they used in the circuses, and when she rattled off her colours, the women were pale and confused.

She couldn't blame them. If she stopped to think about it, she had no idea where the idea came from.

But in her simple room in the inn that day, huddled before a tiny pocket mirror, she felt something come over her, something old and powerful, and she painted her face.

White for innocence, for purity, for clarity.

Red above the eyes for passion and strength.

Red upon the lips to help speak over anger.

Black along the brows to emphasis that her eyes were always open.

Staring back was not just a plain, ugly girl from the backwaters of the Earth Kingdom. Staring back at her was, without any doubt, a beautiful, fierce, hell-bent Avatar.

She smiled.

_Fire_

Roku, if anything, had a problem with patience. When it came to learning the elements, he had always expected it to go smoothly, as smoothly as it had gone for him when learning firebending.

And for the most part, it was that way. Air came almost as easily as firebending, and it didn't hurt that Gyatso was such a great and fun friend. It was so easy that he fully expected waterbending to be the same way.

But the water, he realised, was _stubborn._ It seemed to sense the fire within his gut and reject him based upon it. When he slid through flawless moves, the water would only partially obey him. When he concentrated with all of his strength on bending even a _puddle _before him, only a bit of it would move.

It was _frustrating._

It made him, for the longest time, absolutely _loathe _the water.

For a short period, Roku gave up. Ignoring his teacher's protests, he refused to be persistent. Stubbornly, he took the affront as a rejection, as if the water itself was refusing him.

What he didn't understand was that he needed to move_ with _the ebb and flow of the water, instead of trying to _make_ it move. True waterbenders knew that their element was that of compromise; to work it, you had to actually work_ with _it.

Roku was, at heart, a firebender. He was used to his element coming from the breath and from passion. To him, water was passive and stubborn.

But he would learn. It would be his first lesson in humility, but it certainly wouldn't be his last.


	22. Furious

**Warning: Takes place during _The Headband _and contains spoilers.**

_Where are these words coming from?_

Even as he was shouting them, he couldn't believe the fact that he was saying them. These harsh, cruel words that just seemed to _fall_ from his lips and echo through the small, filthy cell.

_Where are they coming from? _

Zuko couldn't stop them. He couldn't keep himself from screaming them out, feeling his rage and his frustration burst out along with them.

_Why am I saying these things?_

Even as he felt the words leave his lips, he knew that the only thing they could possibly do was hurt his uncle. There was no changing the past. There was no going back. There was no reversing what had been done.

_I'm only saying these things to be cruel, to be mean. To hurt him, the only person in my whole family who actually loves me..._

And yet, with every word, the vise in his chest loosened. With every word, his heart hurt a little more, his eyes stung a little deeper...

_Why am I blaming him? It's my fault. Why am I using him as a means to vent my own self-hatred? I'm the one that's crazy..._

He ran out of words. He was surprised. It felt like he could go on and on, that was how hateful he felt.

_I'm the one that should be in a gutter..._

He turned to walk away, to leave his uncle behind in the dark.

_It's my fault. It's only my fault. I hate this. _

He looked over his shoulder for a moment, grateful that Iroh couldn't see how his face was suddenly crumpled with his inner torment.

_I hate myself and what I've become._

The door slammed behind him. He wished he could slam it on himself.


	23. Initiation

_Writer's Note: I held a Suki Meme over on my writing journal, and thus have a whole bunch of fics that I wrote as requested. So hold this as a warning: The next batch of fics posted will be Suki-focused. So if Suki isn't a character you like, feel free to skip over this batch of fics. Otherwise, enjoy!_

_

* * *

_**Warning: Takes place during the finale (off-screen) and contains spoilers.**

It was hard at first, especially for Suki.

Granted, Ty Lee was the type of person who always adjusted easily. It was how she became such good friends with her fellow imprisoned Kyoshi Warriors in the first place, and how she was able to get their votes of confidence for her.

However, in the months before Zuko's coronation, Suki wasn't sure. She still felt a bite of fury every time she set eyes on the girl, felt that sting of pain, that wave of humiliation, that slow burn of hatred at the very idea of Ty Lee masquerading as one of her women.

But Ty Lee was a master of dealing with difficult - and furious - women.

Suki had agreed to allow Ty Lee a probationary period for a total of a week. Ty Lee was to live on the Island and train like a recruit would, despite her age and her own martial arts background. Most of her Warriors were angry, hoping to change her mind, but she was set.

Ty Lee, to her surprise, took to the probation like a turtle-duck in a pond. She flourished in the beginning trials, in the trivial duties, and even found comfort in the small quarters. "It's just like the circus!" she admitted one day, when Suki asked her icily how she liked her new house. "Small and homey!"

On the night of Ty Lee's final day of probation, the air was tense. Ty Lee had performed her duties to a T, and the other women, and indeed most of the villagers, had already come to accept her as one of their own.

Suki, however, couldn't manage it. So Ty Lee decided to disarm her in her own special way.

It was late at night. Suki was still awake, pacing her bedroom with her fingers in her mouth, biting away at her cuticles. She had to make a decision, one that she knew couldn't be biased, but it was so hard, so frustrating, and because of it, she couldn't sleep.

The knock at her door scared the wits out of her, but she went to open it without a second thought, figuring it was one of the girls or villagers coming in to find out what was wrong.

Instead, it was Ty Lee, wearing a shy smile and holding a basket of curd puffs and what looked suspiciously like a bottle of sake.

Suki stared at her. Ty Lee grinned wider. "Come on, let me in! It's cold out here and I'm hungry!"

The last pane of distrust chipped away, and Suki let her in. What happened that night was something they never shared with anyone, not even Sokka, but when they left Suki's house the next morning, both girls looked like they had been best friends forever, always touching, full of giggling and whispered comments.

Ty Lee's place was definitely secured.


	24. Battle Couple AU

_Writer's Note: This one is an AU request on the meme. It has hints of Suki/Azula, so proceed knowing this._

_

* * *

_Suki, upon seeing Azula for the first time, was suspicious. After all, one look at the younger girl and it was clear that she was Fire Nation.

But despite the cool attitude and sharp demeanor, when she realised who Suki was, Azula was instantly respectful and supplicating. She never overstepped, nor did she ever try to challenge her. She was the perfect recruit.

Suki never really knew the story as to why Azula was even on the island. She had heard a lot of the other girls pestering her about it, and Azula had answered - very curtly - that it was her own business and they should leave her alone.

That was something of a hint for Suki, but she never pursued it. She listened, watched, and did her best to teach the other girl the martial art of her trade, and Azula was, to her delight, a fast learner. She was _fast_, faster than even herself, and she smiled every time she made a hit and won a battle. Granted, her temper was strangely caustic, and once pushed over the edge there was a kind of _maniacal_ quality to her fighting, but Suki could see it there; Azula was going to be amazing.

And when duty called, and Suki and her Warriors were called to the front (the wars were getting far too close to home, and to keep them away from there, one had to meet it halfway). Azula, upon being told, seemed to look hungry, almost desperate for a moment, before the mask was set in place and she was once again her cool self, ready for battle.

Suki hadn't made a mistake when making her her second. Fighting together, side-by-side, back-to-back, and sometimes, in once instance, face-to-face, was something out of a dream; their moves were matched, their timing perfect. Azula's sharp, lightning-quick moves disarmed, while Suki's abrupt and forceful uppercuts and swordswings finished the job. Suki had never anticipated having another girl at her side that seemed to _understand_ fighting so well.

And she would have never imagined that, after a particularly close battle, Azula would lean in and kiss her, hard and urgently on the lips, all while bandaging her slashed-open arm. Azula wasn't the affectionate type, but when she showed it, it was fierce and quick, like sheet lightning in the summer skies.

It was only when they were called to the shores of the Fire Nation that Suki's initial fears were finally confirmed. In the still of the night, Azula snuck into her ten as usual, but it was without the air of hungry need that she usually had post-battle. Suki was surprised to find that in the place of her second stood a confident and cold Fire Nation noble.

And not just a noble; the princess.

Suki was blown away by this. She had suspected it, pushed it to the back of her mind for the good of her Warriors, but never would she have guessed that, after all of this time, it would come to this.

The kisses that night were more than just fierce and quick, it was dominating and cunning. The hands on her body were sharp, the eyes shining like liquid gold in the candlelight. Suki would have fought, would have fought her to the death, but she knew that it wasn't just about the other Warriors anymore; it was about her heart.

When she woke to find Azula gone the next morning, she wasn't surprised. When she found that she and her troupe had been captured and sold to the mines, she wasn't able to react. When she learned through rumours that her island, led by Azula, had fallen under the Fire Nation, she could only chip away at the stone in front of her, wishing she could chip away at her own heart.

It's hard to realise that you're nothing more than a political conquest.


	25. Duties

**Warning: Occurs post-series and contains spoilers. Also contains spoilers for "The Silk Fan".**

"Iru, it's your turn."

"No way. Ugh. Make Zayi do it, she's sixth."

"She's also still recovering a little from the last time we were here. Don't be such a jerk."

"Ladies," Suki broke in, hearing the bickering from down the hall and peering into the main room with a scowl. "What are you fighting about _now_?"

Sakana scowled. "Why do you always put me on duty with this little runt?" was her reply.

Iru glowered back. "Why do you always have to put me on duty with such a jaded little--"

"Okay, okay," Suki walked in and held up her hands, shaking her head. While not the best of matches in terms of temperament, Iru and Sakana were the most compatible in terms of fighting together. Both were loath to admit it, and this was one of those instances that the tension would come up out of nowhere.

Or maybe it wasn't out of nowhere. They had finally made it to Ba Sing Se almost a year after their original attempt, serving as the Earth King's Royal Guard. Azaki and Mikku had adjusted well enough - Mikku's sharp tactical mind was instantly a blessing to the Council of Five, and Azaki's cheerful temperament and no-nonsense stance was key for dealing with the Dai Li - but these two were having the most difficulty.

"What's the problem, anyway? I thought you both agreed that spending time here in the main hallways on patrol would be the best suited to your needs," Suki went on, leaning against the doorway with her arms crossed. "Especially since the Earth King has been getting antsy lately - we need to make sure he doesn't run away..._again_."

Iru giggled at that, but Sakana rolled her eyes. "We have a system, okay?" she said sharply. "We divvy up the daily routes so as not to step on each other's toes. But _every single time_, whenever Iru comes across..._that_...she just _leaves it alone for me to deal with_."

Iru glared, her eyes flashing with fury. "When I do that, it's _your turn!_" she snapped back, her focus on Sakana now. "You have to participate, too!"

Sakana glared right back. "I have more rank than you," she answered flatly.

"Both of you, shut the hell up," Suki snapped suddenly, startling them both. She was sorry, but she hadn't had the best of days, either. "What do you keep prattling on about? What needs to be done?"

Both girls suddenly looked away from each other, both wearing almost identical looks of nausea.

It took a moment, but when it clicked, Suki slapped her hand to her forehead, then shouted, "ONE OF YOU HAD BETTER CLEAN UP THE BEAR SHIT! I don't care WHO, but GET IT DONE!"

She growled, threw her hands up in the air, and stormed out, leaving the two girls - both looking slightly green now - behind.


	26. Hero Worship

**Warning: Occurs post-series and contains spoilers.**

Suki couldn't help herself; she _had_ to ask.

"Aang," she said one day, as they shared a quiet moment during one of the Island's many festivals. "You have contact with your previous lives, right?"

Aang blinked, looking up at her. "Sometimes," he admitted. "It's mostly Roku, but I've had contact with at least three others before him."

Suki couldn't help but feel a bubble of excitement. "So, have you ever spoken to Kyoshi?"

Aang winced a little, rubbing the back of his head. Suki wondered if she had said something insulting without meaning to, but when he answered, she understood. "Uh, yeah, a couple of times," he admitted. "She's, uh, passionate."

Suki leaned in close, her blue eyes flashing. "Passionate how?" she wondered. "Is it like what they say, and that she was so caring for her people that she wouldn't even sleep until justice was served?"

"Uh," Aang stared, his eyes wide. "Something like that?"

Suki nodded, smiling now. "Tell me, what is she like? What does she sound like? is she really as tall as they say?"

Aang laughed. "She's _huge_," he agreed. "In both height and voice."

Suki was delighted. "So what did you talk about?"

And this was where it got awkward. Aang flushed, his smile fading. "She, uh, the first time, I don't really remember, but she was really kind of...scary."

Suki's smile twitched. "Scary?" she echoed.

"She was loud. Really loud."

Suki's smile died. "Oh?"

"And then, the second time, you know, before the Comet?" Aang tugged on his ear, looking away. "She sort of...told me off for hesitating about killing Ozai. She said I shouldn't hesitate to kill if it meant the greater good."

Suki was silent, her eyes wide. Her mouth was a line of what he assumed was bewildered disappointment.

"And the, just a few months ago, when I was in Ba Sing Se," Aang went on, "when I was trying to get the Dai Li to loosen their hold on the city, Kyoshi appeared before me in mid-negotiation and told me off for trying to interfere with _that_..." he trailed off, his eyes sneaking over to his silent friend beside him.

"I see," she said softly, her eyes no longer looking at him. "So she was...a bitch."

Aang reddened a little. "A bit, yeah," he agreed.

Suki tilted her head back, looking up at the statue of her village's namesake. Slowly, Aang watched with quiet confusion as a huge smile spread on her face. She sighed, deeply, closing her eyes, giggling a little.

"Uh," he repeated, "You're okay with that?"

Suki nodded, looking at him sideways with sparkling eyes. "Of course," she agreed. "Because if she was such a tyrant, any kind of bitchiness I give off will be seen as the _norm_." She laughed again, this time the sound more akin to a cackle.

Aang wondered what he just did, and felt, deep down, that Kyoshi was somewhere, laughing her ass off along with Suki.


	27. Toph the Tourguide

**Warning: Occurs post-series and contains spoilers.**

"Honey, I can't believe that you played immigration officer for months and have never even showed up to the place," Toph scolded, shaking her head slowly.

Suki said nothing. She was too busy craning her neck all around her, her eyes wide, her mouth open. The sights, the smells, the people...never in all of her travels around the world had she _seen_ anything like this before.

Toph, despite not being able to see her face, could tell all too well that the older girl was absolutely floored by what she was seeing; her heart was racing, and her breathing was all over the place. It was pathetic, really. Toph _still_ hated Ba Sing Se.

"Wow," Suki said finally. "_Wow_."

"Yes, wow," Toph rolled her eyes a little. "Can we go now? There's more to see, and I want to get it over with so that we can have tea with Iroh."

Suki sighed, glaring at her and knowing it was pointless to do so. She held out her arm, and Toph took it, her dusty fingers digging in a little eagerly. Suki smiled.

"Walk," Toph commanded, and Suki obeyed.

"So, okay," Toph began, her voice bored. "We're in the lower ring, which is finally seeing some money now that Aang screamed himself hoarse at the Dai Li and cash flow is finally reaching this far from the capitol."

As they walked, Suki could see it; some of the houses that were wearing around the edges had seem some recent repair, new paintjobs, and even some decorations. The people looked happier; some still had a somewhat grimy look to them, something that came from years and years of hard labour that never washes off, but they were smiling, as if thrilled by their work instead of hurt by it.

"The lower ring still reeks of fail, though," Toph was saying, her other hand held up to her face, a finger in her nose. "But at least Aang's shrill girl yells made a difference."

"You may want to refrain from stating that Aang is a girl in front of Katara," Suki advised distractedly.

Toph laughed. "True; Sugarpuff tends to be protective of her bald monk."

Once they reached the middle ring, Toph started to get more and more caustic. "Here is where the average people live. Some live on the edges of poverty, while others try hard to eat shit so that they can become nobles."

Suki made a face, hating the mental picture. "Toph, sweetie, you should really not be so disgusting."

"You're lucky you were raised normal, Hon," Toph replied. "You avoided it."

Finally, when they reached the last ring, Toph's mood was dark. "And this is where the money grubbing assholes live," she muttered flatly, "always becoming engorged on the tit-milk of the poor."

Suki made a choking noise. "Bleck, that one was gross."

Toph smirked. "Success."

Suki, however, could see her point; everything in this ring was beautiful, immaculate, and perfectly kept. There was no sign of disorder or chaos anywhere. It was eerie.

"Yikes," Suki shivered, leaning into Toph closer. "I think I understand."

Toph nodded. "Good," she said softly. Suki looked over at her, and saw that the younger girl's face looked a trace haunted.

However, the moment she thought she saw it, it was gone. "Let's get some tea!" Toph burst out with a grin, grabbing onto Suki's hand and dragging her away.


	28. Virgin

_Writer's note: I had a multi-fandom fic meme up a few weeks ago, and Hotspur requested Zuko/Toph with "virgin" as the prompt. And this is what came of it._

* * *

Toph's eyebrows went up, so far up that they vanished into the messy curtain of her bangs. "Really," she said, her voice flat. "Never?"

Zuko sighed, feeling his face redden slightly. He shifted in his chair, looking away. "There's no use in lying to you, right?" he wondered.

Toph tried to clamp down her giggles, but she couldn't. They just _burst_ out, soon exploding into huge chuckles that came right from her gut. Zuko groaned, putting a hand to his forehead and leaning his elbow on the table, shutting his eyes. "I knew I should have brought this to the pyre," he muttered.

"Too late now, Fuss Lord!" she snorted, leaning over and slamming her fist into his shoulder, bringing up a squawk from his throat. "What's done is done. The question is, how to we _change_ that?"

Zuko's head shot up, his eyes wide. He shook his head. "No."

Toph grinned, crossing her arms over her chest. "Yes."

"_NO_!"

But he could never say no to her. She was too loud and persistent, and she could always just club him over the head with a rock and drag him along anyway. So, in the end, he gave in.

"More," Toph demanded, her grip on his arm hard. Her cracked nails dug into his arm, almost breaking the skin.

"Ugh," Zuko reached up with his other hand and wiped the sweat away from his forehead. He could hardly focus, he was so tired already. "I can't. I'm not a machine, Toph."

She snorted. "What kind of Fire Lord are you? _More!_"

Zuko groaned, shut his eyes, and slammed his forehead onto the table, hard. Toph heard it and tugged on his arm eagerly, her face flush, her grin huge on her face. "Come on, Zuko! More, more!"

"Bleck, no. I can't do it anymore. Everyone stares at me. It's embarrassing."

Toph considered. "It's probably easier when you're blind, because you can't see that part of it. But, come on, more more more!"

"No."

Toph leaned in closer, so close that he _had_ to look up. Her unfocused eyes were steely. "Zuko," she said slowly, her voice serious. "There are only so many things I can enjoy, being blind. This one thing, this tiny thing, is one of them."

Zuko glared at her in disbelief, even though she couldn't see it. "Did you just pull up the 'I'm-blind-pity-me' card just so that you can make me _sing in front of everyone again?!_"

Toph grinned, destroying the previous mood. She nodded happily.

There was a tap on his shoulder, and he turned around. A huge man holding up a music book stared at him. "So, uh, what song next, buddy?"

Zuko sighed, gritted his teeth, then snatched up the book. Toph applauded loudly, laughing the whole time.


	29. Dinnertime

_Writer's Note: Another fic request from Schellibie, who wanted Aang and Sokka and something do to with dinner._

* * *

"You are very, _very_ hard to cook for, my friend."

Aang frowned, cupping his chin on his hand. "I don't think I am," he admitted, his breath coming out as a cloud in the cold South Pole air. It was chilly, but the fire in front of him was nice, so it wasn't so bad. "I can pretty much eat anything. I'm not too picky."

Sokka raised an eyebrow. "It's funny you should mention that, because I can think of a good dozen things you would never eat."

Aang frowned even more. "I think you're wrong."

Sokka grinned, accepting the challenge. "Alright, then," he said slowly. "I'll name ten dishes. If you like one, _just one_, then I'll cook it for you. However, if you say no to all of them, you cook dinner."

Aang nodded, politely failing to mention that Sokka had started with a dozen. "Wait, you can't cheat," he said as an afterthought. "No meat dishes, Sokka."

Sokka looked away a little, proving Aang's suspicions right. "Ah, of course not," he said, mentally revising his list. "Okay! How about…stewed sea prunes?"

Aang sighed, rolling his eyes. "I knew you would bring that up. Fine. You got me. That one I hate. Next."

"Ocean kumquats!"

Aang glared now. "Which is essentially the same thing!"

Sokka waved a hand at him, his smile cocky, now. "No, no, they're not. Two different nations, my friend."

Aang crossed his arms over his chest. "Ugh, fine."

"Fireflakes."

Aang shook his head. "No, that doesn't count! I don't eat those because they _hurt_ not because I don't like them!"

_ "Things you would never eat!"_ Sokka repeated which immense emphasis, and Aang glowered. "Fine, but that's only three. You're going to lose."

"Boiled spinach, raisons, nuts – except cashews for some reason, fried rice, raw dough, red peppers, and green tea ice cream."

Aang stared, his mouth open slightly, unable to say a word.

Sokka grinned. "Lived with you for over a year, buddy. I think I know. I would like _stewed sea prunes_ for supper, please."

The wave of snow that was bent at him only made him laugh.


	30. Teatime

_Writer's note: Tiny little fic for Avocado Love!_

* * *

"Hmm..."

Toph leaned in closer, unable to suppress a flutter of excitement in her gut. She listened, hard, to what Iroh was about to say.

"From the way it smells, I would say...something like orange, cola plant, and..." another deep breath, followed by a deep sigh. "Ah, jasmine. That's _wonderful_."

Toph nodded excitedly. "Yes, exactly. Except--"

"Wait," Iroh broke in. There was the sound of sipping, tasting, and another deep breathe. Then there was a loud, explosive laugh, and she knew he had gotten it right, and she giggled, too.

"Dirt," he exclaimed breathlessly, "you added dirt."

She applauded, and he laughed even more.


	31. City Girls

_Writer's note: A fic for Rose Muse K!_

* * *

**Warning: Occurs post-series and may contain spoilers.**

"You're wasting your time," Toph snapped, her arms crossed over her chest. "You're not going to change my mind."

Mai rolled her eyes, undeterred. "Whatever. Your animosity is stale and boring. You bitch about cities being the evil of the world, and yet have you even been to a city that lacks all of that hoity-doity garbage?"

Toph sniffed. "There is no such thing."

"There is such a thing, you brat," Mai responded, unable to hide a smirk. "You just haven't been to a proper _Fire Nation_ city."

"Not true," the other girl answered, following Mai out of the palace despite her protests. She was curious, even though she was sure she wasn't going to change her mind, and Mai barely had spare time to kill nowadays, anyway. "I travelled the Fire Nation with Aang."

This time, Mai sniffed, casually waving to the guards at the front doors as she and Toph made their exit. They bowed to her and let her pass. "You visited backwater towns. Those aren't true cities. You have yet to see the capitol."

"Put that way, I haven't 'seen' _any_ city," Toph quipped.

Mai rolled her eyes. "Ugh, that may be cute for the others, but it's lame with me."

"You're no fun, Knives."

"You'll change your mind after a day in the capitol," was the older girl's reply. Toph sighed, then followed her out into the hot city, secretly kind of hoping that Mai would prove her wrong.


	32. Drift So Slow

_Writer's Note: This fic was originally going to be a long-winded bio-fic all about Iroh, from his childhood all the way to Ozai's birth. But that was before I realised how absolutely convoluted and messed up the timelines are for the Royal Family, and, I am not proud to say, I gave up. Dara and Xiaho were fully meant to be fleshed out and fully formed characters, but alas you only see shadows here in this short fic I wrote before I gave up. Still, I'm archiving it today in case I can manage to solve the Sudoku that is Fire Nation families. Maybe then, I'll finally be able to expand on the many thousand ideas I had for Iroh and his childhood shenanigans. Until then, well... here's a snippet, anyway._

**Drift So Slow**

Iroh's early memories of his mother were – at best – worn around the edges. He remembered a sweet-smelling breast, warm, soft arms, and a melodic voice that sang lullabies.

He much preferred the way he knew his mother now; Elegant, refined, stately – _queenly_. Always holding her head up with an air of lofty indifference, with an icy, calculated calm.

Granted, there were times that Ilah showed her old and motherly self, the self that was so shocked to even have a baby in the first place – what else could she do but fall in love and overwhelm with that same relieved love? But now, these moments were rare, and revealed in gestures akin to primping and preening; A soft hand smoothing out his hair, a warm smile, a firmly adjusted collar or topknot-hairpiece, and so on. She had learned that a prince needed to be given a chance to grow without being coddled, lest he became the heir to the throne, one day.

Despite this, Iroh was, to put it mildly, spoiled rotten. He was the child of the Prince, the only son of the only son of the Firelord Sozin, a child that had barely managed to exist in the first place. Ilah had suffered two miscarriages before Iroh, who was the first and the strongest. It was no wonder that he was spoiled – he was a walking gift, a miracle of Agni.

Azulon, despite his usual gruff demeanour and detached attitude towards everyone around him, genuinely loved his wife. Despite marrying her for duty, they had eventually fallen in love despite this. Oddly, this was only _after_ Iroh was born, and not before. Thus, Iroh's impressions of his father had always been of someone loving to his wife and his son.

Iroh discovered a love of luxury early in life. Certainly being spoiled helped, but something about Iroh suggested softness to begin with. Not weakness, but something gentle.

He preferred to spend as much of his time as possible beside the turtle-duck pond, chubby hands submerged in cold water rich with ripples as he tried to coax them close enough to pet. More often than not, Ilah was forced to drag him away to his studies – an idle princeling was a dangerous one.

Because a Firelord is also a man or woman of the people, Iroh went to a nobleman's school, the best one that money could buy, in order to gain social skills and remain in touch with the populace. The teachers and students were always warned to treat royal students the exact same as any other child, but of course it varied by person.

Iroh was a likable, passionate kid. He loved to tell jokes ad play silly games with fellow classmates. By the time he was ten years old, he even had a few best friends – two, exactly: a boy, Xiaho, and a girl, Dara. Xiaho was tiny, coming up to Iroh's chin, but he was like a ball of iron, he was so tough. Dara was taller than Xiaho, but just as tough – though she didn't start fights like Xiaho, she was quick to end them. Both were his age, and both loved Iroh for his easygoing and silly personality.

Plus, he as also a late-starting firebender like they were. Iroh hadn't shown his abilities until the year he turned nine, which was unusually for royal children, who usually showed their talent at around five or six, and often by accident. He was clumsy and often gave up when it got too hard, so his progress was slow. His friends thought it sloppy and frustrating, but Iroh just laughed it off like he always did.

In between school and playing with his friends, Iroh also had to learn politics and history with his royal tutors. He found most of the history boring, the politics even more so. He realised early that while the idea of bossing people around was appealing, the rest of the stuff was stupid. He wondered if he could get rid of it when he became Firelord.

"Yes," Xiaho said flatly when he brought it up, "that will definitely happen."

Iroh puffed his cheeks out at him – _he's always so sarcastic_ – and protested. "Why not? I'll be the ruler! They'll _have_ to do anything I want, won't they?"

Dara tossed a handful of grass at him. "You're stupid, Iroh," she answered. "You can't get rid of stuff like that just because you don't _like_ it. You just _can't_."

Iroh was less inclined to agree with her, especially since Dara herself was merely a nobleman's daughter – her dad was the senator of something – but when she looked at him with those light grey eyes surrounded by spiky lashes, he found his words of protest drying up without knowing why.

Xiaho nodded in agreement. "S'true. You can't."

"What's the point of being Firelord if I can't do what I _want_?" Iroh demanded with a pout.

"So you can lead the war and wipe the Earth Kingdom from the world?" Dara offered.

"Hey, that reminds me. Have you guys heard about that?" Xiaho's black eyes danced. He loved military gossip. "Apparently our troops tried to cut through the Wall again."

Both Dara and Iroh leaned closer. Neither had heard of this, and Xiaho grinned impishly, adoring this moment of attention. "And apparently, they were _massacred_ by the Terra Team. _No one_ survived."

Dara's mouth went into a grim line, her eyes dimming. Iroh felt his heart racing with both sadness and dread. "That's a lot of dead people," he murmured.

Dara turned to him. "You should destroy the place, Iroh," she practically growled. He knew why – a few years ago, her older sister had been killed in a military coup led by the Earth Kingdom, and she still burned about it. "When you're Firelord, you should burn that place to the ground."

It was an awe-inspiring thought, really. Him, the only son of Prince Azulon, grandson of the great Firelord Sozin, conquering the only real Earth Kingdom stronghold left in the _whole world_…

But something about it sent a slight chill down his spine. He wasn't sure if he wanted to be remembered that way, so he said nothing about it in reply.

But the idea haunted him, and would for a long, long time.


	33. The Replacement

**Warning: Occurs post-series and contains spoilers.**

It took a whole month for Sokka to give up the search for his beloved sword. He had been stubborn, persistent, and desperate to find it. He ripped that whole beach and the valleys surrounding it apart, asked Suki to help, and then later Toph with her earthbending, but no one could come up with so much as a shred of hilt or blade.

"Sorry, Sokka," Suki said softly, putting a hand on his shoulder. It was the night of the last day, and Toph had concluded that every single grain of earth had been looked through, to no avail. The sword was long gone.

Night was falling fast. Toph could be heard cussing up a long chain of frustration on Sokka's behalf. Which was nice, but it didn't bring the sword back. Sokka was kneeling in the grass, threading his fingers through the blades idly, not willing to admit aloud just how much he was hoping to find the sword that he knew they would never find

It just...it wasn't fair. That sword was more than just a piece of cool metal from space. Making it was probably one of the most difficult and yet thrilling times of his life. He had to _work_ for that sword, really and truly word his hardest at it, and while he didn't regret the cause he lost it for (he looked over at Toph fondly, who was now punctuating her words with ground-shaking foot-stomping), the loss still stung.

Suki placed both of her hands on his shoulders now, squeezing tight. He sighed, relaxing a little. Suki's touch always had that effect on him, even at the worst of times. He reached up and placed a hand over hers, but didn't get up or speak. He just felt way too...bummed out.

"I'm sorry," Suki said again. She crouched down, sliding her arms around him and hugging him from behind. He shut his eyes and nodded, but didn't move. "But, hey, we could always find you another sword, don't you think?"

Sokka sighed a little. "I guess," he muttered. The idea of a new sword made him feel a little sick. It had been slightly different with his boomerang. He loved that thing, really and truly, but making a new one with his dad, after the war was over? Far more meaningful.

Something whistled through the air, and suddenly, with a squeak, Sokka felt something hard hit the side of his head. He pitched over, clutching his head and shouting out, "Augh, what the....why would you do that, Toph?!"

Toph stomped over, her entire body tense with her fury. "Because it's fine to be pissed off!" she snapped. "So be pissed off!"

Suki shrugged. "She's right, you know. I'd be pissed off, too."

Sokka growled, his hands going to his hair. "Of course I'm mad!" he growled out. "Why wouldn't I be mad? But there's nothing I can do about it!"

"Are you stupid?" Toph answered, her voice sharp. She reached up and slid something off of her arm. In the dim light of the half-moon, she held it up for the other two: it was her meteor bracelet. Without so much as a blink, it shifted from shape to shape above her palm.

"Yes, Toph," Sokka said, sounding more tired than mad. "That's great."

"No, you jackass!" Toph snarled. "We brought the meteor to Piandao's estate, remember?"

Suki's eyes widened, but Sokka frowned. "So what?"

"So," Toph closed her hand around the meteor fragment. "He still has the rest of it there! You can make yourself a new sword! Just get up off your butt and do it!"

Sokka stared for a moment, his brain making the connections. Then his face broke into a wide, delighted smile. He shot to his feet, kissed Toph on the mouth, then Suki, before he cackled loudly, throwing his arms up into the air.

Suki laughed, and Toph wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, making retching noises with bright red cheeks.

* * *

It took them a few days (and a couple of boats) but they finally reached the estate of Piandao once more. With each step up the pathway, Sokka felt both a sense of excitement and nostalgia fill him.

Once he stopped in front of the door, he smiled, rubbed his hands together, then seized the doorknockers in both hands, slamming them down randomly and together.

There was a long pause. Then the door creaked open slowly, and they were greeted by a flat, unimpressed, but familiar voice.

"Oh, no. You cannot come in. I've just managed to clean up the mess you left the _last_ time you were here."

Sokka grinned in his most charming way. "Come on, Fat! It's your old buddy, Sokka! Let me in, I need to talk to the Master!"

Fat started to close the door, but it was Toph, and not Sokka, who jammed her foot into it and stopped it from closing. She narrowed her eyes, gritted her teeth, and held up her hands. "Open this door or I'll _make_ you," she snarled.

Needless to say, her method worked.

* * *

Piandao smiled at Sokka when he walked in, flanked by Suki and Toph, to the quiet main parlour that overlooked the mountains. "Sokka," he said in his rich voice. "Welcome back to the dojo. Have you come to work on your training?"

Sokka bowed down low. "Greetings, Master," he said formally. Then, he raised his head, lowered his hands, and grinned. "Actually, I was wondering something; do you happen to have any of that old meteor left? The one we used to make my first sword?"

Piandao's eyes went from Sokka's to behind Sokka, where Fat was standing. To the shock of his guests, he looked embarrassed, or at least completely thrown out of the loop. It certainly wasn't a look that was common on his face. "That's...a good question, Sokka," he said slowly. "Certainly a good question."

"So where is it?" Suki wondered. "Still in the forge?"

"Uh," Piandao shook his head. "Probably would be best to show you."

* * *

"What are we looking at?" Toph wondered, her voice flat.

Before them was a sturdy but small wooden stall, like an impromptu idea of a storefront. It consisted of what Sokka realised (with clenched guts) was the remains of the precious meteor he had so wanted. Except that it was in the form of dozens of genuine, quality and traditional Master Piandao-brand swords and daggers.

"It was just such an interesting idea," Piandao explained over the sound of Fat's snickering. "The way you were fighting with your sword, and how, despite its strange mass and material, you were able to use it like a normal sword, it got me thinking...and I was inspired."

"You used it _all?!"_ Sokka's voice broke in disbelief, his hands out before him as if ready to beg for it not to be true.

"Most," Piandao corrected. "Fat wanted me to save some so that he could use it on his furniture for some reason." And here he looked over at Fat for an answer.

"Frame reinforcement," Fat replied.

Suki was speechless, really. She had her hand on Sokka's shoulder in support, but was unable to find anything to say. Sokka was still gibbering, but now his words were incoherent.

Toph, however, found something to say. "So, wait. You took our meteor, the one we risked our lives to contain, and without even asking, you made it into a bunch of _pointy things_?"

Piandao looked at her sternly, but obviously such a thing had no effect on her. He obviously was not used to being spoken to that way.

"Yes, well," Fat broke in. "Even Masters have to make a living."

"Okay," Sokka said, lowering his hands. "Okay. We can still fix this." He turned to Piandao. "Master, why don't you give me one of these? One that is most suited for my requirements."

Piandao smiled. "That can be arranged," he agreed.

Sokka's smile was almost heartbreaking, really.

"For five hundred gold pieces."

All of the colour drained from Sokka's face. He gaped at his master in utter dismay.

"Wait, _what_?" Suki's eyes narrowed. "You're going to _charge_ your own student?"

Piandao shrugged. "It's like Fat said."

Sokka walked slowly to the storefront, his face blank. When he reached the countertop, very slowly, he reached his hands out and clutched them on the edge of the counter. Then, quicker than anyone could follow, he started introducing his forehead to it.

* * *

Sokka lay on the floor of the parlour, holding an icepack to his forehead and moaning every now and then. Things just kept getting worse and worse. First, he was born. Then it went downhill from there.

Suki sat beside him, her hand on his. It was comforting, but it wasn't going to get him a sword. Neither was Toph's muttering.

"Perhaps we should step back and think of alternative solutions," Piandao said now, standing in the middle of the room. "Clearly, you can't afford one of the already-made swords, and even if you could," and here he looked over his shoulder at his student, "I would not sell it to you. A true swordsman makes his own sword."

Sokka just looked at him wearily. He had no real response to that.

"However," Piandao's eyes fell on Fat, who blinked. "We do still have some material left over."

Sokka sat up all of a sudden, his eyes shining. "You mean...you still have some?"

Fat glared at Piandao. "You promised me I could use it for my furniture."

Piandao merely stared back, not intimidated. "And you said that if I had need of the material left over in the future, it was mine."

Fat opened his mouth, closed it, and repeated this several times, before he went red, shot a glare at Sokka, and strode out of the room. There was the sound of muttering as he left.

Piandao smiled. "He'll bring the material."

Sokka shot to his feet and in an instant was hugging Piandao as tight as he could. "Thank you, Master, you are just awesome!" he gushed.

"It's work, Sokka," Piandao wheezed out. "Don't thank me yet."

* * *

It _was_ work, but Sokka was ready for that.

It felt good to sit at the forge again and work hard before the flames. He hadn't realised how much he actually had _missed_ that kind of work until he revisited it. It was an interesting thing to learn about himself, needless to say.

The material that Fat had so generously given him wasn't as much as he had last time, and for a moment he despaired at the thought that perhaps this new sword wouldn't be as perfect as its predecessor. He pored over the materials and tested it out himself, judging the feel and the weight before putting it into the fire. Once that was done, he eyed several of the different moulds, wondering which would be best suited for this time around.

Piandao asked him about this, and he said, somewhat distractedly, "I know it's not going to be the same. But at the same time, I still want it to be as good as possible."

Suki and Toph both decided to give him some space, although Suki had to admit she was worried, and Toph had to admit she was bored. "I would have thought it'd be more interesting the second time around. Guess not."

It took two days. The sweetest moment was when he picked the mould he would use, and realised that it was _just perfect_.

* * *

In another day, the sword was ready. Piandao was the one who adorned it with his trademark hilt and scabbard, designed with intricate symbols that were similar to the old ones but also a little different. It was still a beautiful piece.

The sword itself was the same length, but the blade was thinner and flatter. Where the old blade had a shape somewhat like a diamond, this one was pounded flat. This didn't rob it of its strength, though it did take Sokka time to get used to the new, lighter weight. However, once he did, he found that he could use it to execute far more difficult forms, ones that were hindered by the weight of the old one. It was a mixed blessing, if he admitted it to himself.

When Piandao presented it to him, he felt that empty spot in his heart fill up again. When he unsheathed the blade for the first time, he found peace.


	34. Sky Burial

_Writer's Note: This fic speaks heavily of the different kinds of rituals involved in funerals. In order to be as authentic as possible while reflecting the series, I borrowed greatly from both Tibetan and Inuit traditions while differing only in very minute places. The idea behind a sky burial is in fact a real tradition, although it is dying out – mostly in Tibet – due to outside influences. I strongly recommend, if it interests you, reading the book "Sky Burial" by Xinran for further information into this dying tradition._

_

* * *

_** Warning: Occurs during the finale (off-screen) and contains spoilers.**

"Aang?"

He turned and found Katara standing there, her eyes dark with worry. He couldn't blame her, really; he had been standing there, in front of Gyatso's statue, for what must have been hours by now. He felt that, given the circumstances, there was really no place else to be.

Shortly before Zuko's coronation was set to begin, Aang and his friends gathered together and discussed the many things that needed to be done once the aftershocks of the comet wore thin around the world. One of the many items on the list was the possibility of the restoration of the Southern Air Temple.

Aang agreed quite eagerly that it was something that should be done, and not a moment too soon. After all, if people started living in the Temples again, the chances of more airbenders being born increased greatly. Plus, it was once his home, and he wanted to see it thrive again, like it used to.

But what he hadn't foreseen was the simple fact that in order to make the Temple livable, they all had to clean out the _unliving_ - the hundreds of remains of the monks that had perished a hundred years ago.

It proved to be too difficult for Aang to deal with in the end. It wasn't just seeing Gyatso's skeleton again; it was also having to see the countless skeletons of the men and boys he had known growing up, remembering how alive and happy they had been, only in the end to be reduced to bones...

And it that wasn't enough, the real shock was when Aang realised that he couldn't even honour the dead monks like they _should_ have been honoured, because as bones, they could not be given up to death properly. They could only be buried.

"Hi," he said softly, unable to keep the slight wobble from his voice.

"Toph and Suki are almost done," she said softly, walking over to his side but not touching him. Only Suki, Katara and Toph were able to help with the burials - both Sokka and Zuko were still injured, and Mai was back in the Fire Nation visiting with her family. As a result, Katara's clothes were a little muddy. "Are you sure you don't want to be there for it?"

Aang closed his eyes tight. "Yes," he answered. His voice was hard, he knew, but he couldn't help it. He felt so frustrated and helpless, like he not only had failed the monks when they were alive, but again while they were dead, too.

"Aang," Katara said again, and now she touched him, feather-light and on his shoulder. "What's bothering you? I thought you would be glad that the monks are finally being put to rest."

"Katara, how do the Water Tribes honour their dead?" he blurted out, his eyes back on Gyatso once more.

Katara was obviously startled by this change of subject, but she took the question seriously all the same. "Well, as you know, it gets really cold in the south. We get a lot of permafrost, so we can't always bury our dead like in the Earth Kingdom, especially when the waterbenders were taken away. Once that happened, well..." She shifted on her feet, a faint shiver going through her, but it was only for a moment.

"We honour our dead. We wash them, dress them in their best, brush their hair and plait it neatly, and then ask for the Spirits to bless them with their guidance. Then, we take them to the far shores, and, when we can't bury them, place stones over them to form formations and cairns. They're given back to the Moon and the Ocean, with honour and respect."

Aang was quiet, mulling this over. Some things were similar, but many things were different. He wondered if she would understand why he was so upset.

"Why do you ask?" she asked after a moment.

"Because you do it differently," Aang said. "And with how things are here, I can't do the right thing for those who died. It's too late..." He looked at her, feeling panic blooming deep within his breast. "How do I know for sure that the Spirits took them back?"

"What do you mean?"

"When an Air Nomad dies, we give them back to the earth, but not with burying or cremating or anything like that. We give them to the skies, to the animals, to give life that had been taken back."

Katara blinked in surprise. This was obviously new to her. "Back to the skies?"

Aang sighed deeply, looking away from her and at the ground. "It's not something we talked - used to talk - about, because a lot of people see it as crude or wrong, but it's our way, Katara..." He reached up and covered his face, lowering his head. "It's just too much sometimes..."

"Maybe if you explain it to me, there's still some time to do it right," Katara suggested softly, sliding her arm around his shoulders, her other hand gently pulling his away from his face.

"But it's too late. They're bones. There's nothing I can do."

"But what _would_ you have done?"

Aang leaned towards her a little. "There's a ceremony involved, like you have - washing the body and honouring the person they had been. But we do things different after that. According to ceremony, we strip the body of any vestments and, using ceremonial tools and knives, cut them up in the traditional ways. Once that's done, we leave the remains at the highest point of the Temple. From there, the animals - mostly birds - take them away. They eat the flesh and bones, returning that person to the earth once more."

He recited it like a lesson, toneless and quickly. Katara didn't move away like he thought she would, but she didn't say anything for a while, either. He shut his eyes.

"Sometimes," she said suddenly, "animals find a way of breaking into the stone cairns and getting away with some of the human remains underneath. But we don't punish them, nor do we seek to correct them. What right do we have to deny a starving animal food?"

Aang looked up at her and saw that her face was kind, her eyes warm.

"But that's what is bothering you," she went on. "The fact that they were never given to the sky."

"Yes." Aang nodded slowly.

Her arm tightened around him, her hand holding one of his. "I know it's small, but maybe think of it this way: For a hundred years, the Temple was abandoned - except for the wildlife. Most of the monks died where they stood, so wouldn't it be safe to assume that once the smoke cleared, the animals came back, too?"

Aang sighed. "even if they did, it's not the same."

"I don't know about that." Katara replied. "The ceremonies, the rituals...those are made to comfort the living. The Spirits are bigger than that, and see the result as the gesture, not the stuff leading up to it. At least, I'd like to think so."

He was silent, mostly enjoying the soothing sound of her voice, but also allowing the meaning of her words to wash over him.

"So...then...you think they're there? Together?"

Katara's arms encircled him closely, and he surrendered, leaning in close and shutting his eyes tight, feeling them burn with tears. "Yes," she said. "I do."


	35. Cruelty

**Warning: Takes place in Book Two: Earth during "City of Walls and Secrets" and contains heavy spoilers. **

He _hates _him.

There's a lot of hate in his glare, lot of smoldering fury in that glower. It's hard to miss. It's hard to mistaken for anything else.

Longshot knows. So does Smellerbee.

But they don't get why Jet is so furious to begin with. He was angry long before he suspected – no, _knew_ - that Li and his uncle were firebenders. The moment came when it was so _obvious_ that Jet and Li were alike and it was so _obvious_ that they were of the same stuff and was so _obvious,_ so _damned obvious_, that Li was supposed to be with Jet –_no, with the Freedom Fighters_– because he knew, quite literally, what it was like to be burned by the Fire Nation –but in the end, Li still rejected him.

Back then, when Li was able to push aside the cowl of grief, he was Jet's. He smiled for Jet, fought for Jet, _looked at Jet_, and there was nothing more in the world that Jet could ask for, except maybe _more_ than a look, _more _than a smile, and that he could _actually_ be Jet's...

But things like that took time. They always took time. Not for Jet, though; no, he always falls hard and fast, desperately and passionately. He's just so sick of people running away. He's so sick of people being unable to look past his mistakes. He wants someone to love – _no, respect_ – him for his whole being, and it felt like Li could be that one person...

Because Li has pain, too. Jet knows he does. He recognises it in those –_ beautiful, shining _– yellow eyes, and for the first time in his life Jet actually wonders what another person's pain is like, wonders if it hurts Li to breathe and remember, wonders if Li finds it hard to sleep with the memories alive in his mind, just like him. _Of course he does, he's just like me..._

There also a cruelty there, in those eyes, one that Jet also knew all too well. It was a kind of animal-like cruelty, one that comes only when that animal has been mistreated far too many times and is desperate for it all to end. All Jet wants is to cup that wounded face into his hands and just _listen _to it all, actually _listen_ to someone else's pain and try to help it heal and vanish while kissing the tears away...

But it didn't end up that way.

Jet asked Li countless times to join his group. He said it casually, with a cocky grin; he said it somberly, with a careful tone; he said it desperately, with an eager face.

But Li said no. Said that Jet doesn't want him.

But Jet _does _and not just for his "little gang". Jet _wants_ Li, more than he has ever wanted anyone in his whole life. He wants to heal him, possess him, make him cry out his name and then hear himself say Li's name in just the same way. He wants to taste Li, lick Li, kiss his scars and his pain and swallow them away, wants to hold Li to him and make him listen to his heartbeat and assure him over and over that _you are not alone, you are not the only one, I understand you, I understand you…_

But Li rejected him. And now Jet wants to _hurt_ him.

His heart aches and rages, a ball of wounded flesh within flesh. He wants to make Li pay for breaking his heart, wants to see him cry in regret, wants to hear him plea for mercy. He wants Li to beg for forgiveness, and he wants to reject Li, just like Li rejected him, so that he would know what it feels like.

He wants to do horrible things to Li for his rejection. He wants to steal him away, possess him without consent, make him scream out his name instead of whisper it, make him plea and beg for mercy, for so much as _daring_ to hurt Jet…

He wants to _humiliate _Li, just like Li humiliated him, he wants to see that face – that lovely, lopsided face – crumple with disappointment and the pain of betrayal just like Jet's heart did within his breast when Li rejected him so casually…

All of this runs through his mind as he stands before the teashop door, his hands on the hilts of his hookswords. He is shaking, he's so consumed with – _love, desperation, need – no! Hate!_ He _hates_ him! He hates him _so much! I hate Li so much!_

_I_ love _him so much, but I_ hate _him much more!_

He grits his teeth, the pulse of anger hotter than the bluest flame. With a snarl, he lunges through the doors, fully intent on taking Li's life – or taking his own.


	36. It's in the Blood

_Writer's Note:_ _Written for Avatar_500 over at Livejournal, under the prompt "Element". _  
**

* * *

**

Katara learned at a very young age that waterbending was very, very hard. She didn't have anyone to teach her, and she didn't have any written instructions to peruse, either. Being a waterbender was very hard and very confusing.

When she was still alive, her mother would encourage her to try her best and do what she could. She was always told to be discreet and careful, always told to do it in a place that no one from the shores could see her, but how she did it was always up to her.

Her mother wasn't a bender. In fact, as far as she could see, no one was a bender besides herself. It was strange, and it was lonely. But that loneliness wasn't enough to make her quit. Especially after her mother died, and most of her family became sad and withdrawn. She _had_ to keep going, maybe to fight away the sadness, maybe to keep her mother's pride alive within her breast – it didn't matter _why_. It just _mattered_.

So she watched the waters. When summer graced the South Pole with its brief embrace, she sat beside the shores and watched how the water moved, standing on shaky feet and trying to mime the ebb and flow of the frothy liquid in between slapping away mosquitoes and black flies.

Sometimes she got it wrong. She just _knew_, deep in her bones, that what she was doing was wrong, and that it never would be right. When that happened, if she wasn't too frustrated, she started over again and tried to pinpoint the exact moment it went wrong (was it a movement of the arm, a shifting of the weight?). If she _was_ too frustrated, she would yell and shout and kick at the water, only to stomp away her rage and try to ignore the fact that her raw emotions only brought up puffs of raw foam and sandy ice from beneath her feet.

But she would always come back and try again. She couldn't help it. The water would always call her back, tug on her insides, make her _want_ and _need_ to come back to the shores and try again, keep trying and trying, until finally - _finally_ - she felt her blood sing with the power she used.


	37. Generation Next

_Writer's Note: Occurs post-series and contains spoilers.  
_**

* * *

**

Suki had lost track of how many times she had rolled her eyes.

She didn't remember being as..._obstreperous_...as the girls sitting on the mats before her.

There were five of them this year, one less than Suki's own generation. However, they might as well have been a crew of fifty, given how absolutely _insane_ they were making her.

It was mostly Koko, who had developed quite a mouth, no thanks to Toph and her constant visits. Koko was, much like her namesake, also very brazen and fearless, and had admirable leadership qualities.

If only she wouldn't use them for _evil_.

"_Koko!_" Suki snapped for the _sixth time_ that day.

The girl in question pulled her hands away from the younger girl sitting at her side, who was now rubbing her head dejectedly and trying to tuck her hair under her recruit headband. "Yes?" Koko simpered, her eyes huge on her face, her expression every inch feigned innocence.

"Explain to me why you think pulling on Mika's hair is useful as a Warrior," Suki replied, her voice hard. She was tired, starting to get a headache, and it wasn't even _lunchtime_.

Koko grinned, her _evil_ grin, and Suki had a sudden mental image of tossing Toph out into the ocean and watching her drown for corrupting her best student. "Because it's long," Koko replied, as if that was a suitable answer.

Suki decided to play dirty. "Koko, what would Avatar Aang say if he found out you were pulling on Mika's hair?"

_Success_, Suki thought smugly, as Koko's face burned and the other girls, including Mika, around her giggled.


	38. Buddies

_Writer's Note: Wriiten for Avocado Love =D  
_

* * *

The nuns had prepared the monks with the usual instructions: make sure your bison never gets too hungry, always brush his or her fur every day, clear out his or her toes once a week, and give him or her lots and lots of hugs.

Aang soon realised that it was more than that. Much, much more. He had been duped into thinking that taking care of a baby sky bison was easy, because they were so easygoing and docile. But what the nuns failed to mention was that, as babies, they did not start this way.

Aang's bison, whom he named Appa (Aang liked words with "A", and like palindromes even more), was very affectionate and loving. He loved to lick Aang's face, especially up his nose for some reason, and tended to fling himself onto the small monk as a standard greeting. Aang didn't have a problem with any of this (especially the nose part – it saved him the trouble). The problems came later.

For starters, Appa was very attached to his new companion. Whenever Aang had to leave him in the stables for whatever reason, as soon as he left out of Appa's sight, Appa would started to keen and moan and sing for his master to return, not ceasing so much as a single note until he caught sight of Aang again. It drove everyone nuts, especially at night when Aang put Appa to sleep and he wouldn't stop, even through the night. It had gotten so bad that Aang had to spend most of Appa's childhood in the stables _with him_.

Another thing was that Appa loved to fly, so much that even Aang, as a child prodigy, had trouble keeping up with him. If Appa went airborne, Aang knew that it would take hours to get him down, even when it was important for the young monk to get him back into the stables in time for his next class.

And the worst part was that Appa loved to lick not just Aang, but _anyone else that showed him affection_. Gyatso found it hilarious, but the other teachers and fellow young monks found it gross ad annoying, and tended to blame Aang for the habit, even though Aang was pretty sure he wasn't leading Appa in such an example.

But even though these things were really taxing on his patience, Aang also knew that what the nuns had said about companionship had been true, because Appa was the best friend he could ever have.

When his peers shunned him for graduating the forms of airbending faster than them, only Appa didn't snub him and taunt him for being smart. In fact, Appa seemed to know more about airbending than he did, and was quick to remind him of this fact.

When Aang found himself frustrated with school or friends or his teachers and wished he was just a regular kid, Appa was the one that gave him a lift into the air and made him realise that normal was boring.

When Aang was consumed with what felt like strange and ancient thoughts and feelings, things he realised he should never know, it was Appa's fur that he buried his face into, and Appa's ears that his confused words fell onto.

And when the truth came out and he had to leave, it was Appa that stood in his way and practically _forced_ Aang to take him along, because he would not watch his master leave his one home alone, and Aang was, and always would be, forever grateful.


	39. With Second Sight AU

_Writer's Note: This was a prompt from Floranna, an AU request that explores the idea of Zuko going blind shortly after Book One: The Storm, but taking place before Book Three: The Western Air Temple. I ended up getting a little wordy with the idea, and found myself adding one more scene to it beyond what was originally prompted, because it was such a neat idea. Despite the change, most of the canon remained the same, which I find neat. However, beyond what I've already expanded, I won't be going further, before you ask =3._

**Warning: Contains spoilers for the series beyond Book One: The Storm.**_  
_

* * *

"You knew this would happen eventually, Nephew."

Zuko gritted his teeth, his hands tightening their hold on the blankets. He could feel the heat of his palms and smell the fabric as it singed, but he didn't care.

"The few years you gained were merely a gift - luck, borrowed time - and you knew as well as I did that it wouldn't last."

Zuko shut his sightless eyes, feeling them burn with tears. He heard himself utter something, something close to a kitten-canary's mewl, and it made it even worse.

He felt Iroh's hand touch his forehead gently, but he jerked away like he had been burned. Iroh said nothing; instead, he grabbed one of Zuko's hands and placed something cold and long into it, closing his fingers over it. It was only when he left that Zuko allowed himself o try and figure out what it was.

His fingers danced over the shape, trying to see if holding it triggered a memory. With a jolt, he knew, and he grabbed the hilt of the dagger and pulled it from its sheath. Carefully, he put it aside and glided his fingers over the flat of the blade, tracing the characters on one side before making a face and flipping it over to the other. He still knew what it said.

_Never give up without a fight_.

* * *

There are times when the blindness is a gift. He could tell when his men stared at him - his neck always prickled and his heart sped up a bit - and he could also tell that they really had no idea what to do with him or how to react around him. It was as if they felt that any word they said could be seen as a slight against him, like he would be insulted with the simplest of words.

During this time, he didn't even think of firebending. It hurt too much.

* * *

It was by chance that he found himself on the deck. He knew he was alone, especially since the loss of his sight, his other senses seemed to wake up a bit more and he found himself hearing and feeling better.

He wasn't sure what drew him out of his room, but he left all the same. He used his memory of the ship to guide him (having three years of practise) and his hands along the walls when that failed. Once he found himself on the deck, everything changed.

He couldn't see the sun, but he could _feel it_. He could feel the warmth, smell the scent of things warmed by sunlight on the air, and the blood in his veins seemed to flow easier. Deep within his gut something stirred, and when he held out his hands towards the source of the warmth, they lit and produced two small flames that he couldn't see.

But he _felt_ them. He felt their shape, felt their dance, and could taste their heat and their eagerness to be released and thrown.

His eyes overflowed, and he felt hot tears trail down his cheeks, his breath coming out in short gasps. But he was happy. He was so happy.

* * *

With time, he learned. It was hard, so much harder than trying to learn firebending from beneath the shadow of Azula's greatness, even harder than trying to look like he deserved to be the leader of his small crew with his bending, but it paid off.

Zuko ended up teaching himself. Iroh's voice was a great guide, and often he would call out with helpful advice that Zuko could understand by feel and description alone, but the real progress came when he was by himself, forced to learn on his own, with nothing but his own heart and body to guide him.

It wasn't easy. He still had to walk with a cane and he still found that sometimes he overstepped and had a foot hovering over empty space before he realised it, but when it came to firebending...

He learned to listen to his body. When his instincts told him to do one thing, he did it, and found himself improved in taking the risk. He found himself improving faster and better than he ever dreamed possible with his sight, because instead of seeing only his sister's back, seeing only his father's disappointment and his mother's sadness, he _felt_ what his body was truly capable of. He had been doing it all wrong, for so many years, because he was too stubborn to listen. Now...listening was all he had, and he planned to use it.

* * *

Zhao was a fool, Zuko realised, thinking that by stealing his crew and sabotaging his ship he would finally be rid of him for good. He thought Zuko weak, useless, a crippled puppy-squirrel to be drowned at birth and just as unlikely to be missed, but he underestimated Zuko. Now, he was practically a master in his own right, and he had heard the footsteps and terse commands long before they amounted to anything.

He didn't see his ship burn, but he felt it upon his face, the heat and dust scorching his skin like a slap. But he smiled, because even know, he wasn't giving up.

* * *

Everything in the North smelled of snow and ice and wet. It was hard to navigate through, even harder to try and separate the scents and sounds into something that made sense, but he managed.

"Remember your breath of fire," Iroh had warned. "Remember your sensory forms, and use your chi to sense all around you."

He knew. He knew it would work and he knew it was a good plan. But the monochrome smells haunted him all the same.

* * *

The Water Tribe girl didn't know he was blind, now. That made the fight easier. Not just in a fighting sense, but because he was sure she would pity him, openly pity him, and he didn't think he could take it.

When she went down, he was relieved. He grabbed the Avatar and ran for it.

* * *

He lost. They all lost, in a way. The North was still independent. Zhao was dead, and Zuko was empty-handed. But for some reason, he didn't care.

His sightless eyes were open, fixed on the black sky above. _I am so tired..._

_

* * *

__Exiled. Again._

Zuko was glad he couldn't see Azula's face, couldn't see her smile or her eyes as she twisted those lies and snagged onto his shredded and flimsy hopes. He was glad he couldn't see his uncle's angry face as he fought her, and glad that he couldn't see the men's faces as he threw his fire and ran for his life.

He was also glad when he couldn't see Iroh's face when they sat by the stream, the moment they both severed themselves of their topknots. His own face was soaking wet. He couldn't imagine how Iroh must have looked.

* * *

His cane was like a talisman, keeping people at a distance. He knew that when they saw it, and saw his blank eyes, their pity and shame kept them away.

He was grateful, ironically. His curse kept people from getting too close. He convinced himself he was merely protecting his identity, but even Iroh knew he was protecting himself.

* * *

When he left Iroh alone, it was for selfish reasons. The fact was, he felt like a burden. He felt like he was slowing Iroh down. He felt as if it was pity and obligation keeping them together. He couldn't do that to Iroh.

So he said, instead of the truth, "I can't live this way anymore. It's too shameful. You may enjoy it, but I don't. I'm used to other things. I need to move on."

Iroh said nothing, but his silent reproach was louder than words ever could be. Zuko didn't turn back, didn't apologise, even when it was obvious that everything he said was a lie; it didn't take someone blind to hear the catch in his voice, the strain in his speech.

* * *

"The flow of chi is something that no one ever sees, Zuko," Iroh said, his words slower from his energy. "In this, you are lucky - you do not depend on your eyesight to make things clear to you. As someone blind, you are able to truly _see_ chi - from inside."

Zuko listened, his hands on his knees, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. If he focused, he realised that it was true - and that he _was,_ in a way, lucky.

* * *

"I need you, Zuko."

She wasn't lying. He wished she was_._

* * *

"Even blind, Father will take you back after this," Azula was saying. Her voiced followed her as she paced, the tone clipped and calm. "You've proven that you're not useless, Zuzu. Stop being paranoid."

But he felt useless. Huddled deep within himself, he wished he was deaf as well, to protect himself from her lies and his own internal desires.

* * *

Azula had been right. Ozai welcomed him home, and his words seemed genuine. Even when Zuko walked into the throneroom with his cane, he sensed that the words, and the feelings underneath, were real.

And he realised it would have been easier to be rejected.

* * *

"When did it happen?" Mai's voice was soft, her fingertips over his cheeks softer.

"Three years into my exile," he answered, closing his eyes from her touch. He could hear the paddling of a few turtle-ducks in the pond before them, feel the coolness of the evening air. Coupled with Mai's scent and touch, he felt, for the first time in weeks, truly calm.

He expected her to ask the standard questions, next: _Do you miss your sight? Can you firebend? Are your other senses better?_

He also had expected her to reject him, but she hadn't. Instead, she said, "That sucks, but at least you're alive. I know you, and you always make it work."

His eyes snapped open, his heart feeling sore all of a sudden. He leaned towards her, and felt her hands go to his hair. When she kissed him, it was like fire. When he kissed back, he felt alive.

* * *

He couldn't leave her a message. He had to just _go_. It would have been easier to write, but he knew if he tried, it would only be a mess. Instead, he reached into his breast pocket and pulled out something small and smooth, the shape memorised long ago, long before he lost his sight.

He gently placed it upon her bed, hoping that she would understand.

* * *

The lightning was wild, hot and out of control, and Zuko had to depend on his senses to catch it. He was sure he was going to die, just like his father wanted, just like the whole world wanted...

Something snapped, and he lunged forward, the heat and crisp smell of raw electricity assaulting his senses. he threw his hand out and caught it, then slid back, feeling the hot sting as that very same power travelled through his body. _It hurts,_ he gasped silently, _It hurts it hurts it hurts...._

Then he pushed himself back towards his father, and the pain stopped. And from his outstretched fingers came a shock of lightning...and he smiled.

* * *

When he fled the Fire Nation, he followed on the tails of rumours. It took him two weeks to figure out where the Avatar and his friends had gone. Once he managed to catch up, he realised a major snag in his plans.

They didn't know that he was blind. Or rather, they hadn't noticed, in all of this time - he had fought well enough, been a decent enough threat on his own, for them not to even realise that he didn't see them.

As he listened to them arguing with each other, their voices high and tight with trepidation and anger, only one voice was absent, the one voice that Iroh had warned about and admitted that he had shared Zuko's secret with - the earthbender, Toph. And he realised that not only did she remember, but somehow, some way, he sensed the same problem with her.

Which explained why Iroh had told her of Zuko's own loss.

* * *

It was Sokka that blurted it out, when the arguments died for a moment and the silence was deafening. Zuko recognised the voice enough to put a name to it, especially when the words he snapped out were followed by shouts of his name.

"There's something messed up with his eyes, guys."

"Way to show some tact, Sokka," the waterbender - Katara - snapped back.

"No, I mean..." and here Zuko looked away, hoping he was turning his head in the other direction, but knowing it wasn't going to make a difference. "Yeah, one eye is burned, but the other...it doesn't focus."

A silence met these words. Zuko shut his eyes tight, gritting his teeth.

The Avatar - Aang - spoke up, voice soft. "You're blind?"

Zuko hissed out, "Yes. So what?"

"But...you weren't when we met," he protested. "Whenever we met. You were fighting us with no problems...did this happen recently?"

He heard someone move, heavy steps with light weight behind them. He realised that it was Toph, and she was walking to him - although why, he had no idea. "No," he replied. "This isn't about my sight. This is about whether or not you're going to let me teach you."

Everything logical died in his throat when cool and dusty fingers suddenly touched his scarred cheek. With that touch came a scent - wet earth, sweat, and something unique - and a kind of presence that he never would have been able to feel without being blind. He froze, his heart racing, not moving an inch.

"Uh, Toph?" Sokka's voice was confused. "What are you doing?"

She answered calmly. Zuko was surprised - there was a smile in her voice, and he could hear it. "Accept," she advised, pulling her hand away. "You won't regret it."

* * *

In the end, that's exactly what they did. Toph argued on his behalf, which confused him but also made him feel less like he was alone, both in terms of allies and disability. Katara and Sokka were firmly against, but Aang kept silent for a long time, thinking carefully before deciding. But in the end, he sided with Toph, and it was decided.

Zuko didn't move from his spot on the ground, not quite sure of what had just happened. He listened as the others walked away, probably to talk about what would happen next. Only Toph stayed behind, making herself comfortable at his side. He turned towards her, familiarising himself with her distinct presence. For a long time, neither spoke.

"So how do you see?" Toph wondered.

Zuko frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I see through earthbending, with vibrations," she explained. "How do you do it? Is it some kind of firebending technique?"

Zuko shook his head out of habit, before smirking at his own actions. "No," he replied. "My uncle taught me to expand my own senses, sometimes use chi to help improve them."

Toph whistled, a low and long sound. "That sounds a little risky."

"Yeah, well, I'm here, aren't I?"

Another silence between them.

Zuko hesitated. He wasn't sure why, but he had to ask her, despite being afraid of the answer. "Do you really think I can teach the Ava-er-Aang?"

Toph reached over and placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing. "Yes," she said.

He winced. "Why?"

She seemed to think about it. "Because I know the difference between phony jerks and real people, even before your uncle gave me insight on who you were." She squeezed harder, and he was unable to suppress a faint squeak. "You're real, Prince Paranoid."

The laugh escaped him before he realised it. It felt good. For the first time in a while, everything felt good.


	40. Like Father, Like Son

_Writer's Note: This was a prompt from Blue Lacquer.  
_

**Warning: Occurs right after Book Three: The Beach and contains slight spoilers.**_  
_

* * *

The Admiral walked slowly into his house, his wife following shortly behind him. Something like a growl, or more like a long string of cursing buried by said growl, came from between her lips, her eyes flaring. The Admiral, however, couldn't think of anything to say or any way to react.

His entire house was in a shambles. Bits of food and broken glass and clay littered the floor, accented by the remains of tapestries and what looked like scorch marks. A table remained in the middle of the room, split in half and still sporting several dishes of food, although they slid towards the centre and escaped their plates like passengers trying to evacuate a downing ship.

_"My chandelier!!"_ his wife suddenly exploded, her foot slamming onto the ground and her palms igniting with indignant fire. Mutely, the Admiral's eyes fell on what remained of his wife's prized crystal chandelier, realising that that was the source of the shattered glass.

In the darkened corner of the room sat Chan, curled up in a ball with his back to them, as if trying to meld himself into the wall in hopes of escaping discovery. The Admiral took one look at him, looked around the room once more in a slow and sweeping gaze...then burst into laughter, unable to keep it in.

Both his wife and his son jumped from the sound, Chan looking over his shoulder with watery eyes and a runny nose. His wife stared at him, her eyes wide and confused.

But he couldn't keep himself from laughing. All he could see was himself, decades earlier, surrounded by a mess not much different than this one and cowering in a corner waiting for his father to come home and kick the crap out of him. It was too familiar to _not_ laugh at.

He didn't stop for a long time.


	41. Waterbent

_Writer's Note: This was a prompt from Blue Lacquer.  
_

**Warning: Contains slight spoilers for Book Three: The Avatar and the Firelord.**_  
_

* * *

It was a pain in the ass. Sometimes _literally_, if his teacher had anything to say about it.

Roku lost count of how many times he was dunked head-first into the ocean, gasping for breath and clawing towards the surface, finding not an ally but an enemy in the very element that he was supposed to be making friends with.

But Kesuk was the best, even if he was a merciless bastard, and Roku had to swallow several epithets during his lessons, knowing also that as the best, Kesuk had a temper when provoked - which usually earned any upstart student a water whip strike across the ass, no matter what age.

Trying to learn to bend water was like trying to write with empty air - impossible and prone to making him look like an insane fool. Fire came so easily for him, like a partner in mischief or a loyal puppy eager for treats. Air was just plain _fun_, whirling around him as if yearning for his attention, practically _begging_ to be bent.

But water? Water eluded him. It moved away from his hands, throwing itself out of the way when he tried to lure it close. When he leaned in and out to push and pull a gentle wave towards the shore, the water kept still, like it was mocking him.

"You won't get anywhere if you can't even push and pull," Kesuk snorted from behind him, his arms crossed and a smile playing on his lips. "Even four-year-olds with no training can push and pull the water, dear Avatar."

Roku bit back a snarl, literally biting down on the inside of his cheek, his moves going jerky and stiff with his attempts to keep calm and not kick the crap out of his teacher. Kesuk noticed and started laughing, great booms of laughter that floated from the gut and to the skies.

It took him _weeks_ to finally coax the water into a gentle wave, and it was only when he spent days meditating and trying to figure out what the hell he was doing _wrong_. Kesuk threw him a bone (probably feeling sorry for him) and said, offhandedly, "Trying to force water to do what you want will only make it rebellious, like a teenager. You have to work _with_ it, not _at_ it, or else it will continue to thumb its nose at you."

At first, Roku was sceptical of such advice. It seemed deceptively easy and simple, and didn't seem likely to work. But when he focused and tried it, slowly, listening to the underlying cues that the water along the shoreline seemed to have and adhering to them, a teeny tiny wave was the response.

He was so surprised and thrilled that he yelped out, "Master, look! It's working, it's working!" He sounded like a child, but he didn't care.

Neither did Kesuk. In reply, another water whip arced from the water and smashed itself onto Roku's backside, peddling him into the unforgiving waters. His teacher's loud laughs shortly followed, and for once they reached his eyes, betraying the faint glow of pride within.


	42. Toph and Toph

_Writer's Note: A prompt from Angelchan 2004, wanting a piece that describes Toph and Actor!Toph chewing the fat.  
_

**Warning: Occurs post-Book Three: The Ember Island Players and contains spoilers.**_  
_

* * *

It took while to track him down, but once she did, she was glad she had made the effort.

The guy was as huge as he sounded, Toph realised. She could sense his height and girth through the ground beneath her feet and had to admit that she was flattered by this.

"Hi!" she began, waving a little at him.

"Uh," he replied, his voice sounding wary and confused. "Hello, there. Are you…lost or something?"

Toph considered this; would it be worth it to lie and confirm this, or would it be better to tell the truth – or as close to the truth as she could get?

"Nah," she said. "I was looking for you. You're the guy that plays Toph, right?"

Something in his stance shifted, and she heard the smile in his words when he spoke next. "You bet," he agreed. "I gotta tell ya, I've been acting with the Players for decades, and this is the best role I've had so far. Are you a fan?"

"Of Toph, yeah," she agreed with a grin. "S-er-_he_ sounds amazing."

"Walk and talk with me, little lady," the big actor replied, and Toph complied, hopping nimbly over discarded setting backdrops and detritus that littered the backstage. "When I was offered this role, I wasn't too sure, ya know? Blind earthbender? Is that even real?"

Toph smirked. "Could be. Who knows, right?"

"Heh, yeah, this world is pretty messed up. But the more I got to reading the script, the more I liked this Toph guy. He was pretty badass – running into danger, teaching the Avatar his style, going through life blind and having to see with his voice…"

Toph jumped on that. "About that," she said innocently, "how did you get the sound so perfect?"

The actor laughed. "I studied wolf-bats in the dark, of course!" he declared. She heard him throw a hand onto his chest in pride. "They make similar sounds."

Toph didn't correct him, knowing more about wolf-bats – and indeed, underground creatures in general – more than anyone else she knew. "Oh, I see," she said instead, trying to sound awed. "Clever."

"Although, I have to admit, you know, off the record?" And here the man sounded a little wary. "Some of the things Toph did throughout his journeys seemed a little…_girly_."

Toph blinked at that. _Since when is anything I do thought of as _ girly? "How so?"

"Well, for starters, what was up with that outfit? Wouldn't he of wanted something tougher, like with leather or metal or something?"

Toph considered. She had actually thought her outfit to be rather sexless and standard, something that made mobility and bending easy. _Something metal wouldn't be so bad._

"I dunno," she said instead.

"And…I get the feeling…you know, just a little smidge of feeling…" she felt him lean in close, as if they were conspiring. "I think he might've had a little _crush_ on Sokka."

Toph's face reddened and she cleared her throat, unable to find a defence for herself. "Yeah, well," she stammered. "Travel can do that to you."

"I've been traveling for decades and have never had a crush on a dude."

Toph rolled her eyes. "Anyway," she said desperately, hoping to move the conversation away from her feelings for Sokka. "What did you think of Toph as a whole?"

"In one word?"

"Sure."

_"Badass."_

Toph considered that. Then she grinned. She liked it.


	43. Aristocratic Bonding

_Writer's Note: A prompt from Seconlina!  
_

**Warning: Occurs post-series and contains spoilers.**_  
_

* * *

"Cut it all off, Knives."

Mai made a face, her hands buried deep within masses of black hair. "Since when am I your maid?" she wondered flatly, wishing that Toph could see her expression in order to get the hint.

"Since you bitched about how messy my hair looked," Toph sneered, her milky eyes narrowing.

"It was messy. You haven't washed or brushed it in days. _I can tell_."

"What is it with you and hair? It's just hair. Who cares? Cut it off. I know you have the tools to do it."

Mai sniffed, tugging at the locks a little. "Hair _is_ important. It may be stupid aristocracy talking here, but hair styled in a specific way speaks volumes about who you are. The way you have yours indicates _laziness and sloppiness_."

Toph's face darkened. "Then cut. It. Off."

Mai sighed, long-suffering, and reached over to the vanity's counter and grabbed her sharpest pair of scissors, the ones she used on her own bangs. "You sure? I've never done another person's hair before…well, okay, I have, but I don't think Zuko's hair counts."

Toph grinned. "Even if you did mess it up, _I wouldn't know_. Cut it!"

Mai rolled her eyes and complied, the snicks the scissors made the only sound between them for almost an hour. When Mai pulled them away, Toph reached up with a curious face, her fingers feeling and seeking.

Mai had to admit, it was a nice cut. It was really short – spiky, almost – and instead of making Toph look strange it actually emphasized the looks that she was slowly growing into.

Toph blinked slowly, now brushing her hair with both hands. "Huh."

"Well?" Mai looked at her nails, trying not to feel too much worry about it.

Toph's next grin was deadly. "My parents'll freak. This is _awesome_."

Mai decided to give up. Even though their priorities never matched, they were still usually on the same page about things. And pissing off one's parents with subtle gestures? That was something Mai could understand.

She ruffled the spikes with a smile. "Glad you like it."


	44. I Can't Do This

**Warning: Occurs during Book One: The Kyoshi Warriors and contains spoilers.**

* * *

Suki could hardly breathe. She held her fans so hard that the metal dug into her gloves and she could still feel the bite. Her whole body shook, and she could feel the sweat gathering in rather awkward places, resulting in an overheated and greasy feeling.

She was supposed to be the leader. She was supposed to be the one everyone looked to for answers. She was supposed to be flawless, brave and utterly fearless.

But she was anything _but_ fearless at this moment, huddled on the rooftops and staring down at the Fire Prince and his entourage. All she could _feel_ was fear, and she wondered if this was the final test, that final moment that would test her right to be leader.

_Am I right to be leader? Am I the right one? Am I merely shaming Avatar Kyoshi's memory instead of giving it proud resonance?_

Suki shut her eyes, her mouth dry. She took a shaky breath, focused her senses on everything around her. Sokka's own smothered breaths, his close-by body heat, the sound of her women ferreting themselves amidst the buildings, the snorts and snuffles of the rhinos invading the dusty streets...

Without opening her eyes, she thrust out her arm, the fan in her hand closed.

_There is no time for regrets. If I'm not suited for this, I'll know in the end. That's all I can do._

The fan came down and snicked open. And all hell broke loose.


	45. Royal Cactus Juice

_Writer's Note: This one's for Floranna. It's post-series, so it has mild spoilers.  
_

* * *

Mai blinked skeptically into the glass mug, her face pink but her eyes narrowed. "I think you're a liar," she said flatly. "This stuff is boring."

Toph shook her head so hard that her hair became loose in several places. "Nu-uh. It's workin' on me," she slurred out, her legs spread out on the floor, one hand keeping on the ground to keep herself sitting up, the other cupped around a similar glass mug. "You're covered in cute little baby dragons."

Mai blinked, looking mildly interested. "Really?" she said slowly, trying to keep herself from slurring out her words as well. "What colour are they?"

Toph opened her mouth to reply, but was interrupted when Zuko, staggering a little, walked by her and stumbled over one of her legs. Instead of getting mad, he giggled and sort of hopped around until he caught his balance.

"Works on Zuko, too," Toph observed needlessly, taking another sip.

"Mai!" Zuko exclaimed, throwing his arms out and smiling so wide it looked painful. "I was standing over there, and do you know what?"

Mai blinked slowly. "What?"

"Your hair was so shiny that I _had_ to come closer!" He leaned down and placed his hands on her shoulders, nuzzling first her cheek with his, then leaning up and taking a long smell of her hair. He sighed deeply, a high-pitched noise of contentment, before he scooted closer and tried to actually climb into her lap.

Mai shoved him away, her own actions too forced,and she ended up tumbling onto the floor after him with a curse. Zuko lay on his back, his eyes shut, giggling again, and Mai sat beside him, rubbing her head and scowling.

Toph held up her glass to them in a mock-toast, her smile wide and devious.


	46. Blood is Thick Enough

_Writer's Note: Ah, Azula. If there ever was a twisted ending for any villain, Azula certainly got the worst of one. So when I got a prompt over at LJ to write a Zuko and Azula fic about their sibling relationship, I was like, "Meeeeeeeeeeeh, I suck at this kind of thing" and put it off forever. Until today, when I was reading a book unrelated to any kind of insanity, and the first line of this fic came into my mind, and I was like, "....okay then." So here it is! Oh my, Azula is disturbingly easy to write. I should really look into what that could mean. Seriously.  
_

**Warning: Occurs post-series and contains spoilers.**

* * *

He was the only one she had ever loved, really. Throughout the course of her relatively short life, Azula had precious little time to really form loving relationships with anyone. She had tried, and tried, but she was always off-kilter and always aloof. She would say something wrong at the wrong moment, something easy to misinterpret but not at all what she meant to say.

Except Zuko...he seemed to understand what she meant. Or rather, he took her words at face-value and didn't over-analyse them. Not at first, anyway. No, that came much, much later, when he realised that perhaps she wasn't as safe as he had thought or hoped...

Maybe she took too much fun in jerking him around. After all, it _was_ just fun, wasn't it? When she made him play that silly game with Mai, she was merely trying to get him to open his stupid stubborn eyes at what was obvious...when she taunted him about Father and how he was going to kill Zuko, she was merely warning him in her own way. When she mocked him for loving Mother, she was trying to ease the pain of her disapearance. When she smiled triumphantly, not once blinking as Father burned his face, not once wincing when he screamed and screamed...it was so that she could help him through that pain later, right?

_Right?_

_Wasn't it?!_

All Zuko could see was Father. Azula was the only one who _really_ loved him. Didn't he get that by now? She stayed close to Father so that Zuko would always see her. She chased him around the world to make him stronger, so that Father would take him back and they could be a family again. She didn't _really_ hate him. She didn't _really_ want to make him suffer...

_Right?_

Except maybe she _did_. Weren't mothers supposed to cherish their daughters? (But then, Azula had yet to see any girl within her age group that had a good relationship with her own mother.) Weren't older brothers supposed to protect their little sisters? (But then, Azula was a prodigy and didn't need protection; in fact, she ended up being the one to protect _him_.) And then, when Zuko was banished and never came back, wasn't he supposed to at least keep in _contact_ with her? (But then, even if he had tried, she knew she would have set his letters on fire.)

When he _did_ come back, she once again didn't have his attention -_ that_ lay in pieces scattered between Father, Uncle, and _Mai_. Mai, her own friend! Mai, the one she so gracefully and practically threw him at all of those years ago!

So, maybe if she messed with him more. Threw herself at him in a way that would confuse him, keep him off-guard...only he was unfazed, and...she said some things she didn't regret, but wished she had saved until later. After all, there was still a chance he would turn around...

_Wasn't there?_

_No, there wasn't..._

For months, she lived in confusion. She distracted herself with ordering Ty Lee and Mai around, but Ty Lee was just as confused and Mai was barely around, spending her time with her uncle instead.

She missed him, in her own strange way. Did she miss him as a toy to play with? Or did she miss him like a sister should miss a brother?

The rest she preferred to block out, despite what her dreams or the doctors told her. The betrayals, the madness, the images and sobbing and loneliness...and at the centre of it all, just when she thought Zuko was back for _her, his sister..._he was only back for the throne.

For six long months, this single thought festered. Never mind that they had faced each other ready to kill each other no matter what. Never mind that she had manipulated him in order for him to take her lightning. Never mind that it was the Water Tribe peasant that had managed to take her down...

He didn't even come back for _her..._

The doors to her room clicked a little. She looked up, her arms wrapped around herself but not forcibly. She was actually somewhat calmer now that she had had time to think about things, combing through the lies and manipulations that not only Father had told her, but also the many lies she had told herself. She was calmer, quieter, and trusted with a room to herself without any restraints or padded walls. In fact, while the room was a far cry from a royal chamber, it wasn't so bad. It was clean, and warm, and had a small, high-up window that brought in the much-needed sun. She had a bed, an oil lamp, and even a few books.

But she was still there because she still was angry. And when she snapped, she snapped _brutally_....

The clicking sound persisted, and she sighed, glaring at the doors wordlessly. It wasn't her _fault_. When anyone tried to visit her, she couldn't control the sudden rage she felt bloom deep within her breast. Seeing the faces of Mai, Ty Lee, Uncle...even the Avatar...they just broke her and made her _so furious_ that all she saw was red and just lost control...

The only one she had yet to see was the one she wanted to see the most. She wasn't sure why. To punish him? To scream at him? To kill him? She didn't know.

When the clicking sound interrupted her thoughts a third time, she bit her lip, a wave of discomfort going through her. _Visitors only bring misery,_ she thought bitterly.

"Princess Azula?" a kind voice called. Azula sniffed; they still insisted on calling her 'princess' that it almost made her laugh..._almost._

"What," she said flatly.

"You have a visitor."

"Tell them I'm having my nails done."

A silence. The sound of murmuring voices. Then, to her surprise, a small laugh. _Familiar..._

She jolted upright, her eyes fixed on the door. Her heart raced. The word came to her throat, to her lips, but she only mouthed the world - she didn't dare say it out loud

"Princess," the first voice called. "This visitor would like to see your nails."

Azula got to her feet and almost ran to the doorway, her hands pressed to the cold steel of the door before she could even think to control herself. _Emotions are for the weak, Azula...._ Father's voice chided her, but she bit it back, instead shutting her eyes and pressing her ear to the door, wondering if that voice she had heard had been real...

"Princess Azula?"

"Fine! What do you want? Let them in," she snapped, pushing herself away from the door and glaring at it, hating it and herself for daring to imagine hopes and ideas and needs and wants...silly little girl things...

The door opened, and she turned away, biting her lip to keep the anger down. She knew that eventually she would break down - she always did, no matter how hard she fought it - and no matter how often she told her caretakers this, they still thought visitors would help...

_No matter...it'll happen, I'll get over it, and in a day or two I'll be fine..._

When the door closed, she didn't turn around. She felt a small gust of fresh air, then heard the sound of another person behind her, but she didn't move. _Breathe in and out, breathe in and out..._

"Azula?"

She jerked, then turned, unable to control it. He stood in clothing appropriate for his standing, but not ceremonial in any way. His hair was pulled back in a simple tail, his lopsided gaze wide and wary. He had his arms at his sides, empty and loose, and his stance was hunched with already-assumed defeat.

"Zuzu," the word burst out into the air at last, a gust of explosive disbelief. Her eyes burned, and her hands clutched at her chest, as if she was having a heart attack. "What are _you_ doing here?"

The words, at any time in the past, would have come out as a hard and terse reprimand. This time, instead, they came out small and genuinely confused. Both siblings were held frozen by it.

Then Zuko said, "I'm here to see you." He rubbed at the back of his head. "I, uh, put it off too long. I'm sorry."

Azula stared, her mouth tight and her eyes wide. "But--"

Zuko winced. "I know," he broke in. "I should have made time. But...it's been crazy...and I was scared, and...the last time I saw you..." He held out his hands, looking confused and overwhelmed. "We tried to kill each other! And...I..." He trailed off, lowering his hands and looking away. "You're my sister," he concluded weakly, his voice small. "You're...the only family I have left...and..."

Azula's hand snaked out, and Zuko flinched out of reflex. How many times had she used her hands to hurt him? How many times had she slapped him, pulled his hair, burned him?

But when her cold hand grabbed onto his shoulder, her short nails digging in slightly, he relaxed a bit. Slowly, he looked at her, and she stared back, feeling her mouth tremble and her eyes sting. Her throat was closed up, she couldn't speak..._how had he known how I felt? How had he known that I needed him...?_

Carefully, he reached up and placed one of his hands over hers, gently and without pressure. Instinct encouraged her to slap it away, but she bit that back too.

A long silence passed between them, a kind of wordless and uneasy understanding. Bad blood and poisoned blood could be leeched out, but the stain would always remain in the minds of those affected. But that blood...it will always be thicker.

Zuko pulled her hand away from his shoulder slowly, holding it between his and looking at it. "Your nails look awful," he said flatly. "You lied again."

Azula's heart stuttered, wondering if she had failed somehow and had lost him before she had a chance, but when he looked up with a tiny smile, relief flooded through her. She lunged at him, throwing herself at her older brother and grabbing onto him, her smile large and her sobs larger still.


	47. Toph the Tiny Tormentor

Even before she met the badger moles, Toph was a master at making fools of her father's men. Granted, after she met them she became much better, but it was still relatively easy to make grown men squeal with frustration despite being blind.

The first time she got away with it was when she was only four years old. She was hungry, and hiding in her closet as usual while her parents had a dinner party. She could hear the fake laughter and annoying prattle of political butt-smooching even as far away as she was, and the feathers and soft blankets she had in with her to keep her company weren't doing their job of being entertaining.

She sighed, a finger reaching up into her nose and hooking onto a particularly hard and offensive booger. She took the time to dig it out and specifically wipe it onto the front of her dress before reaching out with her fingertips and trying to find a way out of her closet.

She never got panicked when it came to being locked in a small space without being able to see; being blind was all she knew, and small spaces weren't so bad if they smelled familiar and had interesting things to touch. The closet was on she had memorised long ago, and in no time she found the crack in the door. With her slender fingers, she reached out and unhooked the latch that locked it, and with a slight push and tumble she was free from her little prison.

This was the first time she had dared sneak out of the closet when her parents had friends over, and her heart responded as such - but only for a moment. She knew better than to veer off towards the voices, so instead she concentrated on getting away from them, looking instead to perhaps go outside and play in the grass out of sight for a while until the grass got cold and the air got still - a sign that the sun went down.

But as she was padding along the hallway, she caught the scent of what she knew to be the guards of her father - she _always_ knew what they smelled like for some reason - and she veered to the side with her hands out, searching for an escape route. If they found her, she would be put back in the closet, and that was _boring_.

Her hands fell on a door, and she grabbed onto it and shoved it open, sliding it closed behind her just as the sound of footsteps hit her hearing. She winced, then sighed in relief.

Then she had an idea.

They were probably going to check her closet anyway - sometimes they came by with snacks or more toys - and they would know she had escaped the moment they saw the open door. If she just hid all night it would be no different than staying in the closet, which would be different, but still boring.

And she knew that this idea wasn't boring...

Once she was sure that the guards had gone down the hallway, Toph slid out of the room and tiptoed after them, trusting her nose to lead the way. As she moved closer, she heard the sound of surprised but hushed whispers, and she knew that they had found the empty closet. She listened, then grinned slowly, her cheeks hurting from how wide the gesture was. She held up her hands took in a deep breath, then clapped her hands together, shouting out. _"ARGH!"_

The two men shouted out, loudly. Then there was the sound of bodies thudding together, followed by the sound of those same bodies falling to the ground. Toph giggled and ran back the way she came.

This continued well into the night, much to the guards' chagrin.

Her less than creative but still wildly entertaining displays of guard-annoyance lasted along this vein until she was eight years old. This was the year that she snuck out of her home and ended up getting lost underground for days, only to be fostered by the badger-moles and taught how to use her sleeping earthbending. These days spent in the warm embrace of the earth, lulled to sleep in the arms of soft badger-moles, using the waves of her bending to see all around her...it was probably, at that time, the best moment of her life.

But she knew she had to go back eventually. And she did. _Slowly_. She wanted to enjoy this new sense. She wanted to use it to the fullest and _see_ - however possible - for the first time in her life.

When she snuck back into the house, it was amidst a flurry of sobs and stern speeches from her mother and father in that order. She barely processed it, so absorbed in what she was able to sense with this new gift, and she got away with nodding over and over again before running away to the backyard again like she always did.

_This_ time it was different. She could _see_ the backyard, _see_ the things she could only touch and smell and hear before, and she grinned, relishing in it well into the night, a private and secret affair.

For a few days, Toph was busy adjusting to how new it all was to resume her favourite pastime. And now that she could see, she realised...it was much more fun.

For starters, she could sense much sooner when the guards were coming close to her. Which was great on the days that they wanted to put her in her closet (which was much more boring now that she was older). She found that it was easier to hide in the gardens from them this way, and sometimes, if she was unlucky, the ground would easily open up for her to burrow into if time was short.

Hiding was useful. Tricks were better.

For instance, when night fell and it was time to go to bed, the guards would usually try and find her to "suggest" that she was tired and that it was time. Before, she would either scream, fling snot at them, or force them to physically drag her back into the house. Now, however, things were more fun.

"Ack!" Xu suddenly shouted out, stumbling to the left.

Jiang had to lean away from him in order to keep from being crashed into, but he barely missed. "What's wrong with you?" Jiang demanded of him, not waiting for the other man to even catch his breath. "Are you drinking on the job again? You know that when you do that the old man gets crabby!"

Xu put a hand to his chest, his eyes huge on his face. "The...ground just _moved!_ I swear, right under my feet!"

Jiang made a face. "You _have_ been drinking," he answered flatly.

Xu jumped up and got into the other man's face. "No, dammit, I tell you, the _ground moved under my feet!_"

From behind the bushes, Toph had to keep her hands over her mouth, her entire body shaking from her giggles.

She pulled this trick several times without getting too bored with it, especially since some of the guards would quit, thinking they were going insane from the pressure of guarding the estate. Eventually, because of this, she was eventually outed for her bending ability, and her parents called on Master Yu to teach her.

Toph didn't dare try to trick the master. She knew that the moment she made it clear that she could see with her bending and that she was far more talented than _he_ was, her parents would probably find some other way to lock her up. It was bad enough that they had to pay Yu three times the usual rate to keep quiet...

So she took her anger out on the guards.

More often than not, several of the guards found themselves with twisted ankles, due to sudden holes opening up in the ground right under their feet. Some would also find the ground slide under them, but the worst guards would find themselves _actually swallowed up into the ground_. Toph wasn't heartless, though - she left them in there for only an hour or two.

Needless to say, it was a relief when Toph ran away to chase the Avatar.


	48. Teamwork

_Writer's Note: Occurs several years post-series and contains spoilers. Toph and Mai make a great team, don't you think?  
_

* * *

"Here's what I don't get, Pointy Princess--"

"Ah-ah," Mai cut Toph off, holding a finger up and waving it in reprimand. "Pointy _Queen_"

Toph smirked. "Whatever. What I don't get is why you're want to help me with something like this in the first place."

Mai sniffed. "Trust me, Toph," she replied. "It's a common goal, and a long time coming." She froze, then shoved Toph down behind the wall with her. "Shut up, now."

Toph shut up, but only because she wanted this to work out the way she wanted as much as Mai did. She listened and reached out with her bending, and sure enough, the sound and feel of familiar footsteps met both.

And then they stopped, quite suddenly. Mai grinned, watching as the target in question looked around with a bemused expression at what looked like an array of cakes presented on the floor in a half-circle.

"Uh." The voice was confused, but also sounded somewhat pleased. As Mai watched, there was a smile, a clasping of hands, and slowly, the target in question leaned down in front of the blockade of sweets.

Toph's mouth spread into a grin, and with a snort, she slammed down her foot in one go. The polished marble floor reached up like snakes and writhed around the target's unsuspecting ankles, holding them in place. Without waiting for a reaction, Mai stood up from her place and threw an arm out, a shower of arrows raining down onto the target, pinning themselves - and the long sleeves of said target - into the wall behind.

Together, Mai and Toph crept out from behind the wall, both seemingly proud of themselves.

With a shout and a squawk, Zuko glared at the both of them, his teeth bared. "You _planned this_," he snarled, trying to free himself from his restraints.

Toph raised her hands, and the marble let go of his ankles. At that very moment, once freed, Zuko kicked out at her, but she jumped out of the way, not falling for it. Mai merely stood there, her hands in her sleeves, looking bored. "Of course we planned it. You can't hide from us forever, especially when it's something like _this_."

Zuko suddenly sagged, his head lowering onto his chest. "Why did you have to tell _Toph_?" he wondered sadly.

"I already knew from Uncle Dragon," Toph answered.

"And you made it obvious with that display in front of the cakes," Mai concluded. With some mercy, she walked over and started freeing him from the arrows. Once he was free, she grabbed one of his arms for good measure. Toph grabbed the other.

Zuko sighed. "_Fine,_" he mumbled. "Let's go, then."

As they walked, the two women practically dragging him between them, Mai smiled and said smugly, "Besides, Firelord - You only turn thirty _once_."


	49. Between the Lines

**Warning: Occurs post-series and contains spoilers.**

It was the most fight that Suki had ever seen in Ty Lee. Even that fateful day on the outskirts of Ba Sing Se had seen a dimmer fire than the one that powered the other girl now.

Although, to be fair, Suki wasn't making it easy for her - and she didn't have any intention of doing so, either. Suki trained every one of her girls to be relentless and powerful, strong and unwavering, and Ty Lee was no different, now, despite her background.

Some small part of Suki, however, suspected that it was because of that background that gave Ty Lee such..._fire_...right now, at this moment.

Suki's fans were out as she circled Ty Lee, who held her hands close to her sides, the fingers open and empty. With sharp eyes Ty Lee watched her, their colour dark with concentration and...something else. Suki felt a bite of impatience to her gut, and with a wordless growl, she lunged, one fan held forward, opening it at the last second.

Ty Lee dipped towards her attack, missing the sharp edge of the fan's blade by mere millimetres. She leaned backwards, her fingers crooking up towards Suki, but Suki had been waiting for that, and she pushed herself out of range, feeling the faint breeze from the other girl's speed.

A foot or so apart, both girls froze, eyes locked. Suki felt another bite of irritation just by _looking_ at Ty Lee, which was strange - she had gotten over her initial distrust of the girl ages ago. What was so different now?

Ty Lee suddenly smiled, holding up her hands and waving them towards herself - a challenge. Suki smirked back, holding up her fans in one swoop, and Ty Lee tensed, the smile still glued to her that, in one moment, pissed Suki off.

With another growl, Suki pushed herself forward, twirling her body into a whirlwind of blades and kicks. Ty Lee was prepared for this and managed to thread herself away, easing herself from the blows like she could do it in her sleep. When she thrust her fingers out again, Suki threw an arm out in reply, as if to cut the other girl's fingers. In surprise, Ty Lee leapt out of the way, the inertia of her avoidance forcing her onto her hands in a sort of clumsy backflip. Suki didn't wait for her to get to her feet - and she played dirty, she knew - before she thrust a foot our and slammed her heel into one of Ty Lee's elbows.

With a cry of both pain and indignation, Ty Lee lost her balance and teetered on one hand before toppling to the ground in a puddle of robes and annoyance. Suki stood over her, one arm out, the blade of the fan inches from her pouting face.

"I win," she said, surprised by how steely her voice sounded.

"You win," Ty Lee held up her hands, palms open and facing towards her. "Completely."

"Whoa, when you ladies fight, you fight _hard_."

Both girls looked over to the doorway of the dojo and saw Sokka standing there, looking a mix between bemused and enchanted.

Then he smiled, his hands on his hips. "Suki totally handed you your ass, Ty Lee," he snorted.

Ty Lee scowled, getting to her feet and glaring, a spark of anger that came and went but was still just as potent as a fire. "She played dirty."

Suki felt her cheeks burn, glad for the paint that masked it from their eyes. She closed her fans and tucked them into her belt, crossing her arms over her chest. "I merely went with what I could."

Ty Lee brushed off her clothes. "Which was _playing dirty_."

Suki glared, but Sokka strode over to her side and threw his arm around her, giving her cheek a playful nuzzle. Ty Lee watched from the corner of her eye, her mouth tightening a little, and Suki felt something akin to a kick in her chest.

_That was why I was so angry...?_

"Now," Sokka broke in, snapping them both out of their shared and resentful glare. "If it were me fighting both of you, I would win, no contest. There's no beating a Southern Water Tribe Warrior."

Suki slipped out of his arm, smiling wryly. "Well, when you see one, be sure to send him here so we can face him, okay?"

Ty Lee smiled, then giggled. "I wouldn't mind seeing your dad again," she replied with a sly smile.

Sokka went red, which was predictable - and desired. "Okay, both of you, you and me, let's go!"

Suki glanced over at Ty Lee, who was glancing back. Suki had won their little battle, but that didn't mean they couldn't work together to win this one, too.

Wordlessly, both girls shrugged and dipped into a stance, Suki with her fans and Ty Lee with her hands held at her sides. Sokka withdrew his sword - and the fighting began again.


	50. Girly Time

_Writer's Note: Oh look, some femmslash fluff! It's Yue/Katara, just to be warned.  
_

* * *

If she had to admit it, Katara knew that the main reason for her tenderness for Yue was the fact that they were both Water Tribe women, close to the same age, and had had their share of hardships in times of war.

And she also had to admit that some small part of her was rather smug at the fact that while Sokka was spending his spare time staring at Yue with puppy-eyes, it was Katara that got to spend the _real_ time with her.

But Yue herself was interesting. She was a product of strict upbringing that came with both regular household chores and harsh royal duty. Despite this, and despite having to be older than she was, the other girl seemed to take it into stride, even seemed to be able to find fun in things. Katara could see herself in Yue, and something more, something that was comforting and alluring...

Katara leaned back into Yue's embrace, her back resting against the other girl's chest. Yue sighed, deeply, sliding her arms around her and tugging her close, eager for body warmth despite the humid air of the Sanctuary. With lazy fingers, Katara reached up and looped Yue's smooth white hair around her fingers, smiling faintly.

"You know that this can't last," Yue whispered suddenly, her lips shockingly close so Katara's ear. The feel of her warmth breath sent a shiver through her, but the words didn't hurt. She knew all about Yue's upcoming marriage.

"I know," she said aloud, tilting her head back and staring into the fathomless blue eyes of the other girl holding her. "But whatever we can have is good enough for me."

Yue blushed prettily, her hold on Katara tightening. Katara smiled, sitting up a little, leaning up to capture the other girl's mouth with her own.

Really, this slice of time was just right.


End file.
